My Brother was an Only Child

I first met my brother back in 1948, a year we all remember because that was the year that Ronald Reagan appeared as Sergeant Bill Page in The Voice of the Turtle.  He (my brother, not Ronald Reagan) was a little five-year-old, snot-nosed kid named after his old man, Charles Russell Cook, Sr.  Oddly enough, he (my brother, not Ronald Reagan or Charles Russell Cook, Sr.) was named Charles Russell Cook, Jr.  Funny how that works, ain't it?  His mother was called Johnnie High Pockets.  Well, that wasn't her real name, but my mother called her that instead of Johnnie Alma Taylor cause it was funnier and she (Johnnie, not my mother) was a tall drink of water.  My mother was a short sip of coffee, but that's another story.  Fact is, I was an only child, too, so there might be some people wondering how we became brothers.

After being hatched in Charlotte, The Queen City  Charles wasn't a queen, but his mama did dress him funny a few times  Russell (that's what the Sr. was called) found himself with a new job in Hotlanta, Georgia.  Probably wasn't too hot back then, but it got hot later.  Anyway, one Christmas I was transported by my mama and daddy in the back seat of an old Chrysler (my mama and daddy weren't in the back seat, I was, but it was definitely Christmas and it was definitely a Chrysler) down to Hotlanta to spend Christmas with the snot-nosed kid, Johnnie, and Russell.  I don't remember too much about that, but I do remember being absolutely entranced, enchanted, bewitched, beguiled, captivated, and mesmerized by a toy Charles received for Christmas:  a big-old olive drab U.S. Army antiaircraft gun with a big-old crank on the right side.  This had to be the safest toy ever made, with the possible exception of lawn darts.  The gun came with a large supply of half-inch long, 1/16-diameter steel rods that, when dumped into the ammo hopper and the crank was turned, were shot across the room and into the waiting eyes of young children, only later to be scooped up and swallowed by any toddlers who happened to toddle by.  They just don't make toys like they used to.  So, I must have decided right then and there that I would hitch my star to the big kid with the most wonderful toy ever made.  Kids are like that, you know.

A couple of years down the road, we traded Christmas visits.  Now, I'm not sure how it got there, but Santa delivered a brand spanking new bicycle to one each Charles Cook at 907 Trogdon Street, North Wilkesboro, North Carolina.  Man, did my bro love that bicymicycle!!  I think it was red, which is not a hard guess given that bikes in those days came in about two colors.  In any case, he rode that bike, and rode that bike, and at the end of the day parked it out on the front porch for safekeeping.  I guess the tires were dirty.  Next mornin', up bright and early to ride the new bike!!  Oopsy, even in the thriving metropolis of North Wilkesboro, probably shouldn't have left the bike on the front porch.  Bike gone, Charles sad, everybody sad.  Not the best Christmas ever.

Christmases come and go.  But you could count on Taylor family reunions every summer, regardless of where they were held.  All of the Taylor cousins were there . . . Claude, Charlotte, Anne, Desha, Bonner, Charlie, John, Doris, Bob, Dot, Charles, and, well, Pewterbutton.  It just didn't get any better than that.  I wore the title of Pewterbutton proudly, as I do now, being the youngest of those old farts.  But we all found, in later years, that there weren't any old farts.  The guys who went to Duke, and the guys who went to Carolina, and the beautiful, talented girls, and the handsome, talented boys, and the folks who went north, and the folks who went west, and the folks who went all over, turned out to be simply one family.  Amazin', ain't it?

Well, back to the Christmases and other interim visits.  400 Ferris Drive in Churville . . . oh, wait a minute, did I mention that the Cooks moved from Decatur (that is metro Hotlanta, after all) to Churville, NC?  That don't sound rite.  Churville?  Oh  Cherryville!  Yeah, that's it!  The three of us, M, D, and me, visited the Cooks frequently, but not frequently enough for me.  I remember the Chesterfield cigarettes, perhaps a splash of bourbon here and there, Sing Along with Mitch, and Pete Fountain playing on the stereo.  And I remember Aunt Johnnie saying that there was a revelation when Charles left for UNC  she didn't know, until somebody had to be paid to do it, that their small yard could be mowed in less than two days.  I remember going out with Charles and his BB gun when he shot at birds, showing off for Pewterbutton, and his sorrow when we found a dead songbird that he had killed.  Some of those memories stick with you.

Charles never claimed to be a Broadway dancer, but he gave me my first be-bop dancing lesson.  While the Cooks were visiting us for Christmas in 1957, Charles geve me my first rock-n-roll record:  At the Hop, by Danny and the Juniors.  Never a shy person, my mother asked Charles to show me how to dance to it.  He was as embarrassed as embarrassed can be, but he said Well, you just sort of put one toe behind the heel of your other foot, and you just kind of repeat that, I guess.  I remembered that, year after year, and acquired a well-deserved reputation as a dancin' fool.  I think the only time he ever saw me repeat his steps was after his wedding to the love of his life.  Stay tuned.

I also remember my bro's cars, of course.  Circa 1960, we had visited the Cooks in Churville, and were migrating back to North Wilkesboro.  Most probably just to get the driving experience, the snot-nosed kid, who had grown up enough to get his license and drive us both back to North Wilkesboro, was driving a beautiful, black 1957 Ford Fairlane coupe.  No seatbelts, of course, but I didn't miss anything I had never had.  And, besides that, my hero was driving.  On the way to North Wilkesboro, in the pitch black winter night, he asked me if I minded him driving in the middle of the road as long as no other cars were coming toward us.  Well, of course not!  We made it to North Wilkesboro.  The next memorable vehicle was a Chevrolet Corvair Monza.  That was a hot car, Motor Trend magazine's Car of the Year for 1960.  Yeah, yeah, Unsafe at Any Speed according to Ralph Nader in his 1965 book, but Charles wasn't that bad a driver.  Oh, wait a minute, I think old Ralph was talking about the car, not Charles.  Never mind.  But the car to end all cars, the pièce de résistance, was (you have to visualize this) the 1964 Pontiac GTO convertible, canary yellow, black convertible top, four-speed manual transmission, three two-barrel Rochester carbs, limited-slip differential, and lord-only-knows what else.  As we all took a test drive in this hottest of hot cars, somebody asked me if I wanted to drive.  Probably not bro Charles.  I had had my driver's license for only a few weeks at best, but I did at least know how to drive a stick-shift car.  Well, sort of.  I distinctly remember being unable to drive that beast without getting a wheel whenever I started off from a stop.  I'm sure Charles was delighted at my expertise.  Or not.  At least he didn't throw me out of the car at the first opportunity, and the North Wilkesboro Police Department didn't catch me.  We lived to fight another day.

Back to the Christmases for a minute.  I absolutely delighted in wrapping the gifts for Charles.  They were usually just silly little things, but I would wrap them in a small box, then a slightly larger box to hold the small box, then an even larger box to hold the . . . well, you get the idea.  Sometimes he would have to go through six boxes and wraps just to get the kernel in the nut!  One year when he was in high school I got him all of the gag gift stuff related to alcohol I could find, like bourbon-flavored toothpaste and gin-flavored lip balm.  You should have seen him opening that right in front of Mama Johnnie!  Embarrassed!!  Yessssssssssss!!!  Watch the Pewterbutton Happy Dance!!!!

The years passed, as years are wont to do.  Charles went off to Carolina (Now, let's not make any mistakes here.  We're talking about the only real Carolina, in Chapel Hill, The University of North Carolina, The Tar Heels, not that silly imitation down in Columbia, South Carolina, whose athletic mascot is named Cocky.  Cocky.  Seriously?  Are you kidding me?) after gradeeatin' from Churville High School, and got hisself into one uh them thar frateternity things.  I believe what it was was Delta Sigmund Freud Pie, or something like that.  I was going through that high school stuff, with all of those whoremoanal changes, so there were times when we didn't get together too often.  But we were still what we later referred to as Cuz-Bros.  He was Cuz-Bro the Elder (and the more smarterer and more handsomer), and I was Cuz-Bro the Junior, still Pewterbutton.

Bein' five years older, bro Charles finished at Carolina in 1965, while I was just about to begin my freshman year in 1966.  And, my goodness, what did I hear about??  I heard about this lovely girl named Judy who had stolen his heart and what few brain cells he had left after washin' em down at Delta Sigmund Freud Pie.  He got up the courage to ask her to marry him, and, by golly, it all came to pass.  He asked me to be an usher, and I had to pretend that I knew what I was doing.  I must have fooled him good enough, cause after all of the I do's and Maybe I will and I'm not sure about that, he gave me a silver Cross pen and pencil set.  Well, I mean it weren't real silver, but it surely was purty.  I still have that set, some 49 years later.  That was some kind of nice wedding!  And he was right, by the way . . . they don't come any better than Judy.

Then came the U.S. Army and Germany, and the transportation business, and Chicago, and, well, life happened.  Children got hatched, time marched on.  In June 1969, we sort of traded places.  I married the love of my life, and there was only one guy on Earth to be my Best Man.  Charles swore later that, as Linda walked up the aisle, he thought I was going to pass out, as white as a sheet.  But my bro was there to prop me up.

Then, over the last umpty-ump years, we realized that five year's difference in age didn't amount to a hill of beans.  We started remembering the pillow fights, and the Christmases, and the BB guns, and, well, other stuff.  And we started cruising together, one time with one of my most beautiful cousins and her boy-toy, and We. All. Had. A. Blast.  I'm not sure how many of these stories I can tell.  Well, there was the one time when Judy was up dancin' on the table and Charles was surrounded by . . . .  No, I'd better not tell that one.  Well, then there was the time that we all dressed up and went to . . . .  No, I can't tell that one, either.  But, by golly, we surely did all have fun!!!

And that, in a nutshell, is how we became brothers.

This might be a good place to say something about the Taylor cousins.  All of us, a whole bunch, are descended from a guy named Taylor (duh) and his wife.  He was Will and she was Carrie to their friends and siblings.  To us, they were Granddaddy and Grandmamma.  The first one of us cousins was born in 1925, and the last one (me, Pewterbutton) was born in 1948, 23 years from start to finish.  We are not now as many as we were.  But, for some largely inexplicable reason, all of us learned that there is nothing more important in life than family.  There's a company that built its reputation on the slogan Toys R Us.  Well, the Taylor cousins sort of have a slogan, too:  Family R Us.  We are us.  I don't know quite how to explain it, and I won't try to.  But it surely is a wonderful thing.  The last few days we have been comforted by each other.

My bro, the only brother I ever had, is gone.  I do miss him so.  But I am greatly comforted, as all of us cousins would be in a group hug, to know that he has simply joined the cadre of guardian angels that watch over me, and keep me from doing something really stupid.  I plan to seek his guidance regularly, although he will surely encourage me to do something that will get my rear end in trouble.  And then he'll guffaw, and then he'll sputter and laugh some more and say I got you, Bro!.  Go Heels!

And he'll always be there for me.  And I'll always be here for him.  I love you, Charles.

John B. Williams
January 7, 2016

We were so sorry to hear of the passing of. Charles. He was a great classmate of ours. We will keep the family in our thoughts and prayers. Gerald & Jane Yount- Clas of 1961

Sorry for your loss.  I am grateful that I had the chance to work with Charles.  Not every day that you get to meet somebody special like him.
My thoughts and prayers go out Charles and your family.
I am sorry that I was not able to make it to the service.

Judy and family, what a wonderful gift Charles is to everyone who knew him. I pray that God will comfort you in the days to come.  Charles is in a beautiful place, without pain, full of joy, and those of us left behind will miss him very much.

Judy,Charles was so kind to everyone and I will miss him at our family reunion.

Our deepest sympathy to your family for the loss of your husband, Charles.
We respected him as a great neighbor and friend.
May the loving memories of him ease your pain during this time of sorrow.
God bless you all.
Anthony & Linda Lynch (Mint Hill, NC)

Sincere sympathy to the family of Mr. Cook. May the God of  comfort and peace strengthen you during this time.(2Cor.1:2-4).

Judy,
Read in the paper about your Charles. We are so sorry. Praying that the Lord will hold you in his loving arms and lift you to higher ground. All our love.
Brenda and Glenn Harrelson

We are beyond saddened by this great loss. Charles was very much loved and respected by us but we know also that he was a great husband, father and grandfather. We will keep Judy and Lynn and the rest of the family in our thoughts and be available if we can help in any way.

I knew Charles for over 60 years and had a great friendship. I will truly miss talking and texting with him but I am happy he is free of pain and sickness and in heaven with his parents. My prayers continue for his family. Thanks Charles for many fond memories.

Deepest sympathy to the family.  I went to school with Charles in Cherryville.  He was a fine man and will be missed!  Keeping the family in my thoughts and prayers.

I had the pleasure of working with Charles many times over the years in real estate transactions.  He was always a kind gentleman and a professional.  I am sorry for your loss, and your family is in my prayers.

Deepest Sympathy to Cook Family on
Loss of Charles. Loved his Dear Mom
Johnnie. Long time Family Friends and next Door Neighbors in Cherryville. Many years since our Paths Crossed. He was 
Blessed by Loving Family all his Life as am I. Farris Drive was Loving Street to grow up on with many Friends.
God Bless Cook Family now and days to come.

John L. Fraley, Jr.

Judy, Marcus,  & Lynn,
I am so sorry for the pain and great sense of loss that your family is experiencing.  I understand that I have no words that would provide relief, but I want you to know that I care deeply about what you are going through and that I will pray for your healing.  Charles was someone whom I always enjoyed being around.  What a wonderful spirit he had!  It was an honor to have known him.
Roy

OBITUARIO

Charles Russell Cook Jr.

13 abril, 1943 – 1 enero, 2016

McEwen Funeral Service-Mint Hill Chapel

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