Raymond Earl Lane – the Big Brother I Never Had

Raymond was the youngest of the Lane children.  He was born on July 29, 1932, which makes him a little more than three years older than me.    It’s a little unusual to have an uncle who is also your peer.  As an only child I was a pretty naïve kid, so Raymond took it on himself to expose me to the wider world, the one the adults didn’t want us to see.  He had the world figured out before I did and considered it his responsibility to educate me.  I played with him, wore his hand-me-down clothes, and probably got in trouble with him from time to time.  He used to have a guitar, and he wasn’t playing it anymore, and I wanted it so bad I could taste it.   I think my parents gave Raymond $5.00 for it.  After awhile I learned three chords and I’ve never stopped playing since.  I guess I can blame Raymond for that part of my waywardness.

I recall a couple of incidents prior to the time I started to school that involved Raymond.  The first was hog killing.   In those depression days, hog killing was just a normal part of living.   You didn’t buy your bacon at the supermarket.

 I couldn’t handle watching them kill the hog, but then I got really interested as they began the butchering process.   Raymond talked them out of a part of the entrails – the bladder I think.   Somehow he fixed it so that he could make a ball out of it and we threw the ball around that afternoon.   We really did play with the pigskin, or at least the pig guts.

But the biggest day I had with Raymond, prior to the time I started to school, was the day I was allowed to go to school with him.  I was 5 and he was 8.    I spent the whole day in school and thought it was absolutely fascinating.  I couldn’t wait for the next year to come when I would be able to go to school.   I remember the desks, the teacher and the blackboard.    It was all very fascinating.  The teacher talked about the Eskimos.  I’m not sure I had heard of Eskimos prior to that time, but it was very interesting to me.   She told how they lived in houses called igloos.  She had run off some pictures of igloos on a hectograph machine (sort of a hand operated copy machine that used a messy jelly substance.  Be thankful you don’t have to use them today).  She gave me one of the pictures to color, but I remember that I was totally unable to stay within the lines.   I’m glad that adults don’t have to qualify for jobs by staying within the lines, because I still have trouble doing that.