I grew up on a farm/ranch just outside of Austin, Texas. That alone should be enough to brag about, but what made my childhood so great was that I was blessed with sharing my “growing” experiences with five brothers.
My Dad had brought his war bride to Texas from her home in the Steel Mill Hills of Pennsylvania. Mom had grown up within a family of five girls, no boys. Upon arrival in Texas, she promptly set about making Dad proud by giving him what in the upcoming years was commonly known as “The Glass Boys”.
Now growing up on a never-ending roller coaster environment, you would think that surly we would have lost one or two along the way. Even though we got close a couple of times, we all lived and I feel, made our parents proud. At the same time I bet that a couple of times they probably though under their breathe “There’s no doubt we can make another one like you, just look around”.
One may ask what was it like growing up with five brothers, and no sister? I'm not sure, I try to think what it would have been like for a sister to be among us. She would, with no doubt, have had to endure a life of being picked on, messed with, teased and probably would have asked more then once “Mom, why did you do this to me?” But at the same time, I know for sure that she would have also been the most protected little girl ever to be graced with five brothers. My Dad kiddingly stated one time that he didn’t have time nor the need for girls on a ranch even though I know that he yearned for one. That was proven years later when the Granddaughters started showing up.
Growing up among my brothers in the cotton fields and along the Colorado River was a life that was alway challenging. Of course, there were many times when having five brothers came in handy. I wouldn’t say we got into a whole lot of trouble, or at least if we did, we were able to figure out a way to fix whatever it was before Dad and Mom found out. Life was not boring on the ranch that was for sure. There was always something going on, or if there wasn’t, we changed that real quick. Some of the things that I think we proved over the years together was that it took six boys to get some things done maybe not effectively but at least completed. Such as;
Picking mustang grapes for jelly from a height of 20 feet in the air among the grapevines entangled in an oak tree while trying to ward off yellow jackets and red wasps.
Moving irrigation pipe from one location to another in the grazing pastures, interrupted by swimming parties in the river under the limbs of the old pecan, sycamore and cottonwood trees.
Frog and Toad hunting along the back roads in the lights of the family pickup after a good “toad choker” of a rain, with mom driving the truck slowly behind us.
Hauling hay out of the fields in the same old pickup, stacking it so high that we were sure it was going to topple. Then stacking the hay in our barn, which initiated the brain gears of my older brother’s on ideas for new and better elaborate tunnels of adventure. (see Country Boy Games)
There was the setting of “traps” to scare away the frequent uninvited visitors to the abandoned old “big house” which was well known for its “ghosts”. The old southern mansion style house stood in a field behind our house. With its own small graveyard and the darkness that surrounded it at night, the lure was too much, and the local teenagers and college students would arrive throwing “dares” and taunts to each other almost on a weekly basis, especially around Halloween.
Our job, we decided, was to make their trespassing, something they would never forget. From placing bells, and tin cans along the front porch stairs and a few hidden surprizes inside along it’s hallways to our final act of banging on the tin sheets that covered its windows on the outside. What fun it was to watch them as they screamed and hollered and scattered sometimes watching as “Mr. Macho” left his girlfriend behind while scrambling to get to their cars alongside the roadway a hundred yards away.
Our job, we decided, was to make their trespassing, something they would never forget. From placing bells, and tin cans along the front porch stairs and a few hidden surprizes inside along it’s hallways to our final act of banging on the tin sheets that covered its windows on the outside. What fun it was to watch them as they screamed and hollered and scattered sometimes watching as “Mr. Macho” left his girlfriend behind while scrambling to get to their cars alongside the roadway a hundred yards away.
Last but of course not least, “cowboying” the ranch’s herd of cattle and sheep. Herding them into the working lots to brand, give shots, spray, and make what us boys thought had to be a bull calf’s worse nightmare, making it a steer. We all knew the ranches “mark” on the calf’s ear and exactly where it had to be placed. We each learned quickly the proper way to rope, take down and hold a calf. Sometimes, you learned the easy way, sometimes, you learned the hard way and were reminded of the experience way into the next couple of days when you tried to stand up.
The bumps and the bruises were expected. That was part of growing up and living the “Glass" way. But with each bump, each bruise, each laugh and each cry over the years, we grew. We all survived, we all learned many very important lessons. Now, years later, I feel that it is obvious to each of us that it wouldn’t have been the same if each of us would not have been there, we each added our own characteristics that made and still make up our family.
We were and still are a family, very proud of our heritage and of each other. And to this day if seen somewhere all together, I have no doubt that the question is asked and answered with “Oh them? That’s the Glass Boys”.
We were and still are a family, very proud of our heritage and of each other. And to this day if seen somewhere all together, I have no doubt that the question is asked and answered with “Oh them? That’s the Glass Boys”.
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