Jerry Brotherton
The Backyard Poet
The Backyard Poet
- Poetry -
Every Heart Has A Story.
Counseling and sharing God’s Truth
⅓ of a Songwriter, ⅓ of a Writer & ⅓ of a Photographer
FAB: Faith And Books
art. popular since 10,000 BC
through the darkness there is light
A dreamers guide to sanity
Vague Meanderings of the Broke and Obscure
Scribbling through life.
Arts & Lit Collective
Mostly light hearted but often with a serious message.
Berlin Stories, Poetry, etc. by M.P. Powers
2016 published a book of poetry and short stories available @http://chrisblack2012.com
Always Searching Behind Closed Doors for the What ifs, the Whys and the What Fors
So true! 😀
HUGS!!! 🙂
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When I was a teenager I thought being called a kid was an insult…now it is a compliment.
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When well-seasoned men call me “kid”, I tell them to get their eyes checked! 😉 😛
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I love the ones who say…You young people don’t know how well you have it. Back in my day…
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Yeah.
And sometimes the “good old days” weren’t always good. Ha. 😀
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Agreed.
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ahem….and some adults too! wishing you lots of joy and peace this holiday season Jerry.
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The older I get, the more I can appreciate being called a youngster. Have a very wonderful Christmas Gina and I am looking forward to spending many hours of 2018 absorbed in reading your brilliant words.
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I think I get younger each day Jerry as I learn new things and see life with a different perspective. likewise I enjoy your writing and most of all the thoughts that show me your heart for the truly important things in life. blessed Christmas and a wonderful New Year to you!
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My father calls me and my boyfriend kids.
I’m 27. He is 29.
I love it 🙂
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I am over 60 and a customer just called me ‘kiddo’. Thanks for stopping by. Have a Merry Christmas.
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You’ve just brought up a couple of memories for me. When my boys were still in school, teachers/other parents often mistook me for a student even though I was usually there volunteering. One morning, I was headed into the front of the high school building, and a teacher who was walking across the parking lot yelled, “Hey! You can’t go in those doors!” When I turned around, he realized he knew me and apologized. Another time, I was volunteering in the concession stand at a high school basketball game with three students. During a lull in purchases, the four of us were taking a break, and the mom of one of the girls showed up. She asked, “Where’s your help?” The girl pointed at me, and the mom actually said, “That’s not a parent, that’s just a kid.” I was slightly annoyed, but I’m sure I’d be thrilled if someone mistook me for a kid today.
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That’s too funny.
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