Poetic Passion

Yeah, it’s me. I’m going to attempt to put down enough slices of my life make a pie. It will probably end up in my face, but the dawning of 2000 got me thinking if I’m ever going to try and explain my passion, to myself or anyone, I have to get going on it. As far as a dedication goes, when I try to love, and want to do something significant for a special someone, it can be no other than my sons. If I end up wearing this pie, I know they know my heart and will tell me if I look too stupid.

My sister Carol has always been there, reachable whenever I needed someone to talk to. Sorry I don’t do it more sis, but thanks for always being there just for when. It really means a lot.

One had my heart, one tore it apart, and one just threw it away, they are mentioned intensely, and wreaked havoc in my soul, but this is not a dedication to any of my three strikes, sadly. I would have painted a more beautiful portrait if I’d had something to work with. This could be my farewell, at least to the agony of love. It nearly killed me once, and I hope I’ve finally learned.

I hope anyone who reads this can find something they can relate to in here, I am really average, so look for a basic, normal, tell it as I see it approach to life. Don’t expect flawless grammar, punctuation or word usage. The less you expect, the more you might be surprised

Nick. Caleb. If ever I’m a grandpa, this is for the reason.

1953

It was the twelfth of December 12-12-1953.  It was the year of the first Corvette and the very month the first playboy issue came out with Marilyn Monroe as the cover girl. I''ve loved cars and titties ever since too, I just can''t imagine which has cost me more.

I was obviously too young to remember what all happened, my twin brother, who came six minutes later, got the better memory.  I became Jody Lee Buerge and he, Bradley David Buerge.  Our parents, Don and Eunice lived in River Styx Ohio.  Not the mythological border to Hades, but the gateway to mine.  Two of the most important and lasting influences that would play out in intense details throughout our lives were our sister Nona Kay, 21 months older, (preceded by a stillborn brother never known, Alvah), and my dads religious background.

My grandparents on my dad’s side were "Holderman" Mennonites, more rigid in their discipline than even the Amish.  My dad had joined the church in youth and was expelled for, I presume, marrying my mother outside the church, since she wasn''t a Mennonite.  This meant that he wasn''t able to sit at the same table with his family throughout his life, no fellowship. Hand shaking with the expelled was even forbidden, no non-spiritual fellowship with those being ostracized.  That was a very noticeable item my whole life, still is and dads gone now.

Dad''s family was Alvah and Naomi Buerge, my grandparents. Grandpa died long before I was born so I never knew him, but his dad was a Mennonite minister and two of his songs are still in the hymnal. My uncles, aunts and dad came like aunt Wilma, uncle Wilfred, uncle Gene (Eugene), dad, uncle Virgil, aunt Viola, uncle Glen and uncle Frank.

I''m not real sure how long we were with our folks in River Styx. I remember Brad and I playing out on a porch roof, second story, and people coaxing us back in terror. It was Nona and my mother, Nona remembers a lot more than I do and she said that was at the house in River Styx so that is my earliest memory. I have heard we moved into a garage in Canal Fulton, Ohio, then ended up in Michigan. My mother was from Middleton, Michigan, Eunice Vining then.  Sometime later, Brad and I were left at the home of a Henry and Evelyn Edlin, and that was the last time I saw my mother for 24 years.