Yeah, my brother, my big brother,
He was 22 years my senior. 
Someone cut from a whole other generation, if you will. 

Born of my father’s second marriage. 
He spent his first few years after birth on a failing cotton farm,
In the back country of Missouri.

He wasn’t slow, or dumb, or an idiot.
He did become a high school graduate,
And eventually a journeyman millwright. 

He didn’t marry into the family
Or find a child bride,
Like so many hillbilly jokes imply. 

He joined the Army,
And served in Germany. 
Found a wife just off the base in Fort Knox

After the birth of two beautiful daughters, 
We decided I should get a vasectomy. 
Two bouncing babies were enough for us.

You know, getting your nuts cut,
A  sac rewire,
A sniperonni, if you will. 

From the wives’ talking
Brother got wind of this
And wanted to talk, man to man.

“Why would you no longer want to be a man?” 
Wait! What? 
“You won’t be a man if they take your nuts.” 

“You want to give up sex for good?”. 
“Why would you do that?” 
“And besides, all you have are daughters.”

“You must have a son.” 
“To carry on your name.” 
“You can’t let your line die.”

Um, dear brother, a vasectomy is not castration.
Our two beautiful babies are more than enough
And they will carry on my legacy in the world.

“Oh, well, you need to have more kids anyway.” 
“You are not thinking right!” 
“Who put you up to this?”

Ah, common sense Bro.?

2026