I think we all get curious about what went on in the past.

My mom recalled that my older brother Gerald was a “Mudder” and liked to get out and into whatever mudhole he could find over on Cleveland Street here in Allen. His old math teacher told me that Gerald liked to hunt birds and make the acquaintance of new and interesting girls.

Mr. Duke taught all the incoming freshmen over at Stonewall their algebra. Gerald, he said, was eager to learn and seemed to be bright. On the second day of algebra class Mr. Duke wrote a fairly simple algebraic problem on the board. The bottom part featured a large X =?. “So, Mr. Duke went on, what does X equal?

Gerald’s hand shot up. What, Gerald?

It's six! Said Gerald.

Puzzled, Duke asked, “where did you come up with that? “Well, Gerald responded, that’s what it was yesterday.

My big brother may have had a little trouble with his numbers as he wondered who the idiot was that dreamed up a math figure the higher authorities (yes it was Mr. Duke again) of pi. A number which represents the ratio between a circle and diameter. Yep. It’s still 3.14159. I just tried to remember March 14th when I had to produce this strange Greek number. I’ve read that NASA uses this figure a lot. Go figure.

A few years ago Gerald and I drove by our old house we lived in over on Cleveland St. (here in Allen) Gerald wanted to snap a picture of our old house, which he did. A woman come bursting out and wanted to know what he was doing. In spite of his many skills in dealing with girls he fell short at that moment. I think she was cooking Meth.

But we quickly moved on. Gerald and I were actually pretty good adult buddies, and we made frequent phone calls to each other.

The last time I spoke with him was on the night Trump was going to get re-elected. He hoped. Gerald (in the oil business) figured Trump had been good for the oil business, so he was an avid Trump guy. In fact, he was hosting an ill-fated election night watch party for his Trump crowd, complete with a victory meal and the trimmings.

Two things happened right after we talked. Trump lost. Gerald, already hosting a bad heart, suffered his last heart attack and he died.

I don’t know who, if anyone, lives over in my old birthplace on Cleveland. Looks empty. Curious about my birthdate I looked up the weather for Allen on February 25, 1935 — my birthday — and it said it was very cold that day. A minus 7 plus blowing snow making sure that Allenites had a good shiver as I greeted the world. Anyway, old Dr. Morris, who officed downtown in the big 2-storied building at the corner of SH-48 and Broadway delivered me. Some years later, as I visited kin here, I visited the kindly old Doctor. He said he only remembered me because my dad paid him off with money he won on cash night at Allen’s Majestic Theatre. This visit was in the summer of 1947. I asked Dad later what was the movie that was playing. He didn’t remember.

I do remember this. Dr. Morris was a great old guy. His offices faced the north, looking over a busy downtown Allen. The upstairs of this old building was occupied by lawyers, land people and it had just been remodeled.

Doc. Morris gave me and my two resident cousins, Corky and Tiny Ray a free first tour of Allen’s most prominent office

building. It looked real impressive that day. The hanging milk-glass chandelier lights down its hallways gave it a look of elegance.

No tours today for the big empty building but things are still humming along here in my birthplace. Be sure to go to church Sunday and let me hear from you.

Wayne Bullard, DPh cwaynebullard@gmail.com