Our first born-Bruce, the Goose!

Bruce Allen, my little man, was born on a hot humid day, July 31, 1953. I had always wished for my first baby to be a boy to watch over his siblings and set a good example for them. If you were to ask his sisters about that, they may not agree. I was only seventeen when he was born so I always told people that , "Bruce and I grew up together." Maybe because the first two years of his life, we were inseparable. His Dad went to the Army only 2 1/2 months after we married. When it was time for Bruce to be born, my Mom and sister, Kate, took me to the hospital. They stayed until about midnight- then went home. Guess I was taking too long and Mom thought she could catch some sleep. About 5;00 AM, Bruce finally made his appearance-- no Daddy, no Grandma, no one, except Dr. Meyer and his nurse and Bruce and I. When he was two months old, we boarded a train and headed for Colorado Springs and Daddy! You all know the story of Ken finding us behind the train depot waiting for him-he loves to tell that one doesn't he? Four months later, Ken got his over seas orders, and had to ship out to Korea. He had a thirty day leave so we got to drive back to Wisconsin in our little "1942 Chevy coupe." Another of Dad's favorite stories! I rented a little house and we lived there until Ken came home from service and we bought our first farm. Of course it was not a year and Bruce had a little brother,Dean to play with. Where you saw one, you saw both of them-just like they were bonded together. They played in the barn, in the sand pile, tramped around the fields with their dog or pushing trucks and tractors along the driveway. When they learned to drive the tractor, this brought on a new experience for them--now they were Daddy's helpers. Raking hay and driving for baling, feeding all those calves and playing with the kittens, together. By this time there were more little people in the house to watch over so I was busy there. Bruce, Dean and Deb all were in charge of someone little, to make sure they had shoes on and faces washed when we got ready to go to Grandma's. About now Bruce got his nickname, Goose, thanks to his brother, Dean. At Christmas , Ken always had to go to town and buy new tractors and Tonka trucks for the boys. It was up to me to pick out the dolls for the girls. Those two boys had a never ending job in the barn-pushing hay and silage and what else?? Oh, yeah, scraping down all the cow poop! The year was 1963 at Christmas when Ken, Bruce and Dean contacted hepatitis . The boys missed 5 or 6 weeks of school, they were so weak and tired. Family and neighbors came to do the chores for us. One night Bruce went to the barn to feed his calves. About half hour later, here comes Harvey Clarke carrying Bruce. He had lay down and fell asleep in the hay. He was about ten years old then--I think he felt a special bond for his Uncle Harvey right then. From then on, they hunted and fished and played together like old buddies. When Bruce was in the eighth grade, he helped Earl in the bike shop, fixing bikes. There were no 3 or 4 wheelers back in the "olden days", so there were a lot of tires to repair on all those bicycles. He worked there through his high school years, when he could get away from chores. The last two years of high school, Bruce started dating Pam, the next door neighbor girl. We always teased them that they had a trail through the corn field between us and the Wells farm. (I think there was.) Bruce enlisted in the Army in his senior year and left for basic training in July. I was so sad to have my buddy leave and go far away from me, but it was time for him to go on and start a new chapter of life, away from us and the farm----