Happy Birthday, Mr. Postman

Happy Birthday, Mr. Postman - and the postman is not John Prine.

The retired Postman/Lettercarrier is my brother - the one who Prines'.  Happy 59th Birthday!

Generally, the scenario of this day goes - I call - I receive the answering machine - I sing - and wish All The Best and life carries on.

oh, ah, eh, - today I got an answer!  My brother states - yes, I am another year older.

Oh my, we talked and lip flapped hours - almost four hours.  It was delightful - so happy, such fun to reminisce.  To speak of our lives now.  Grandchildren, children taking care of children.   Prine and lets us all Prine on.  Oh, but did you hear of Neil...Bruce.  My word we talk of them like they are part of family growing up in northern British Columbia.

A fine conversation - he told me a story - well, it is not a story - it is true.  There a polish family that lives next door to him.  He was out sitting on his porch, a nice summers' day.  The polish man hears him and asks - may I bring my guitar.  My brother acknowledges.  They play a few tunes together...then the fellow says...I heard you sing/play something about Paradise...we played that before remember.  My brother says, yes.  It is John Prine - Paradise. 

Wesley says every guitar note was hit perfectly from one man born in Poland and one man born in Canada.  They shook hands - my brother asked - would you like to bring your family over....

New Years and past Christmas days have come and gone...do you know Souvenirs, I can teach you that - it is a Steve Goodman song.

The family comes and what a great time they had.  They Prine.  Wes get the word book out so everyone can sing.  It is Prine Time, at the greatest.

My brother will be into surgery soon, I hope.  He has developed a cataract.  Probably some or injury from too many days of hockey, baseball, or what - have - you - sports he took part in. He will be fine, he is my brother.

I love you, my brother.  I will love you forever.

I love you, goodnight.