Left, Right, Left!

My mom, my brother, my sister, and I lived in a little house on East Kansas Avenue. The house sat atop a small hill. It's fair to say we grew up well below the poverty line.

We survived on commodities and food stamps. My mom smoked cigarettes. Back then, anyone could buy them. My brother and I would be sent to the local grocery store with $2 in food stamps each. We'd buy a food item for $1.09 and get the change in silver coins. We would go outside, pool our change, and then go back in to buy my mom a pack of cigarettes.

We were young and had to cross a busy avenue to get to the store. I'm thinking we were ten and eleven years old. He was the older brother and in charge.

My grandpa was at the house this particular afternoon. I remember him helping to set up a washer and dryer. It must have been a little chilly because I remember him wearing a plaid long-sleeved shirt under his overalls.

We all know that before you cross the street, you look left, then right, and then left again. I remember this as one of the first things I learned in school – kindergarten stuff.

On the way to the store to do our little food stamp trick, we reached the intersection of Kansas Avenue and King Hill Avenue.

My brother was on my left. I looked to my left, and a car was coming. I then looked to my right; it was clear. Before I looked left again, my brother said, "Go!" I knew a car was coming as he went, and there was nothing I could do.

Seconds later, I watched as my brother's lifeless body rolled out from under the car. He wasn't just hit; he was run over.

This is where my memory becomes hazy. We were three blocks from the house. I turned and ran as fast as I could up the hill to get my Grandpa.

My brother suffered head trauma, and both of his legs were damaged. Our relationship as brothers was damaged for life. The blame for this accident, the way my mom saw it, was of course my fault.