By: W.C. Reader

They took an old friend of ours out to the cemetery in Kenedy a few days ago and laid him to rest. His name was Earle Brown, and he was something special to us because both of us first saw the light of day on adjoining farms north of Kenedy quite a few years ago. We didn’t become close in those early years on the farm, but when the boll weevil and 5 cent cotton caused our parents to have to move to town to seek their fortune, fate stepped in and made us neighbors again. As a matter of fact, it was a street and not a barbed wire fence that separated our houses this time.

From that time forward, Earle and we became close friends as played together, fought together, and romped together until our school days came to an end, and then we went our separate ways. But a friendship has been forged that never ended. Both of us managed to marry a couple of mighty fine girls, a matter, which caused many, of our friends to wonder where we got all that persuasive power.

But through it all, Earle and we never were neighbors again. Even so, we still managed to keep up with the doings of each other, and occasionally we would come together to talk about the good old days.

After we retired, each of us fell back on hobbies that must have surprised many of our associates. Earle picked up paint and brushes and began to create paintings, while we took a pencil and paper in hand began to write columns on humor and folklore. For some unforgivable reasons, we never did seen to combine our skills until near the end of his life – and that wasn’t planned! Somewhere, Earle must have heard about our campaign to elevate the beloved outhouse to a position of dignity and respect in history and society. He painted four sketches of the outhouse in various scenes of usage, signed them (as all artist do), framed them, and then had them personally presented to us by another old Kenedy country girl, Lucille Koenig. Those who saw this occurrence will testify that it is one of the few times that we have been flattered and speechless at the same time.

Earle, be advised that we already have picked the spot where these will hang in our hallway, just across the way form one of our bathrooms. There they will hang in honor, under scoring our contention that nothing ever becomes a country boy so much as to constantly remind himself of where his roots are.

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