Category Archives: Writing

Family, Writing

Little Brothers

Little brothers can be really annoying sometimes, especially when they don’t get their own way.

I was 26 months old the first time I met him. He was red, wrinkled, and slept a lot. Despite his angelic appearance, I sensed a potential for mischief in him.

Being a little brother myself, I knew older brothers were bigger, stronger, and dominant. Looking at the red raisinette cuddled in next to my mom where I used to lay, I resolved to be the best big brother to him that I could be and dominate him completely. As if he could read my thoughts, he opened sleepy eyes, and looked around before giving me what I later learned was his basic ‘oh yeah? Says you’ face. The grownups said it was gas and mama picked him up to burp, but I knew the gauntlet had been flung. So be it, thought I. Let the games begin.

There were no ‘games’, of course, beyond the usual cruelties brothers inflict on each other as they grow up, partially because he was mama’s last baby and partly because he was a likable little cuss. Sure he could be annoying sometimes, in ways I never understood, and 26 months age difference seems like a lot until you hit twenty and want to date an 18 year old woman, but he was also funny and not afraid to do something really stupid if he thought it might be amusing.

Somehow, he survived, and so did I. In our maturity we laugh about youthful differences that seemed so important at the time. I have become aware of how much of an impression a small act of kindness can make in a recipient’s life. Any kindnesses I may have accidentally performed have been repaid many times over. He has gone far and done well in this world, leaving a legacy of kindness and consideration behind him. Many people have better lives because of him.

As he begins his sixth decade on this earth my little brother is still going strong, better than ever since they re-plumbed his heart. He shows no signs of slowing down, so keep a sharp lookout in the skies and highways of South Florida. Best to just give him his way, he can be annoying when he doesn’t get it.

Happy birthday, little brother.

Decatur Clary, Florida Panhandle, Northwest Florida, Writing

Decatur Clary – a simple man in complicated times.

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Born into a family of storytellers, I learned early that the first liar doesn’t stand a chance and an entertaining fabrication was sometimes sufficient to distract an adult long enough for them to forget how mad they are.

I started writing at a young age, the alphabet mostly. Gradually, I learned to assemble words and form sentences, … somewhat. Imagine my joy upon discovering I could write my stories down! Consistent creative re-imaging was within my grasp.

I was toiling my life away, providing for my family and myself, until one day my wife asked me if I was ever going to do anything with all of my scribblings. I had never considered actually doing anything with them; outside of pleasuring myself and making her read them. Why don’t you publish some of them, she asked. D’ya think? I said. Yep, she said. So I did, and here we are. What do you think?

My stories are mostly about Florida, the way it probably never was, but the way I remember it. The characters are composites of people I have known or heard about, and the settings are familiar places in the Panhandle of Florida, the armpit of the South. Any truth is accidental and I disclaim any liability.

In my youth we traveled a lot, but we always came back to the Forgotten Coast. The tourism bureau doesn’t like to talk about it much, because of the heat, humidity and hurricanes that swirl up from the Gulf of Mexico and the mosquitoes, biting flies and gnats that swarm out of the swamps, across the sandy soil that supports scrub oak and pine forests and damned little else. If the truth were to be told, most of us prefer it that way, forgotten.

I like to listen to the small voices of everyday people because  there I find the common humanity that binds us together, no matter how strongly social loyalties pull us apart. This common humanity interests me because i have seen it appear in the most unexpected places and it always reminds me of how much alike we are.

I hope that you will find some enjoyment in my stories. I hope that someday soon I can quit my day job and write all the time. Wouldn’t it be a lovely world then? I think so.

-RDC