Family

My father is Kent Cherry, and My mother is Judi Cherry. There is much to be said about each of them, but if I had to sum them up I couldn't do it without summing them up together. They lived their lives through my eyes as one. My father was the strong right hand, and my Mother the body that controlled it. Separately they treated us all in their own way, but it was all a part of the same plan. My parents had the perfect system that allowed their children the freedom to explore life, with rules to guide them home when they lost their way. 

Father, as most fathers are, was the disciplinary of the house. His methods were simple, and often misunderstood. Looking back I can see now that though he could go over the top from time to time he was never reckless, and his punishment was always aimed to teach a lesson. He took on a rare role. He was afforded the opportunity to be a stay at home father. My mothers career was more than enough to support what we needed, and so he decided that what we needed most was a parent at home, and not a babysitter. He was right, and wise to choose to do this though he caught a lot of flak for it. Its more common today than it was then. My father was a trailblazer in the nature based nurturer section of parenthood. He was not just a father and disciplinary. He was a friend, and a role model. This made getting in trouble harder. I wanted to have the fun, basketball playing, park visiting, song singing, happy dad all the time. It made it easy for me in my naivety to see him as a hypocrite. Like a best friend scorn. How dare you punish me for what I know you have done admittedly. he would share his stories of trouble making in a lighthearted manor, and then I would find myself at the mercy of the right hand of mom for doing the same things. It would have been wiser of me of course to hear the stories as a funny tale of caution. Do as I say not as I do. I think the point is I see that now. I remember the worst thing I ever said to my father. I was standing before him and my mother in the living room. traditionally when we got in trouble mom and dad would sit in their chairs and we would stand before them as if in a courtroom awaiting sentencing. My father asked me "Do you think your mother and I wake up every morning and ask ourselves what we can do to make your life miserable" My answer was cold and callus. "Not mom." My father blinked twice, his eyes watered up, he looked once at mom, then back at me and dismissed me. I was a fool to say such a thing. In truth most our punishments were executed by dad, but sentenced by mom, and I knew that just as well then as I do now. How easy was it for me to dismiss my heart for what my mind was telling me. I will never forget, and will always regret that day. As I said before my father could be over the top, but not only in his anger was this true. He was over the top with his mercy, compassion, grace, kindness, and love. It wasn't until my son was born that I began to realize fully what that meant. Today my father and I are still best friends, and that I believe was always his plan. 

Mother was a spit fire! Her CB handle was cherry bomb because she was small with a short fuse and a big explosion. She never aimed her temper at us kids, not once that I can remember, but boy did she let dad have it! I would like to say that I remember my mother most for her kindness and compassion, but I don't.  I remember my mother most for her Iron will, her determination, her wisdom, and her mischievous side. Don't get me wrong mom loved a good kid cuddle as much as the next mom, but if you got hurt expect mom to make it hurt more to feel better. Got a skinned knee? 80% rubbing alcohol. Got a sunburn? Vinegar or mustard will fix it! One time she sliced her hand open and sewed it shut with a needle and thread. She only went to the doctor because it got infected and dad made her. She was not a cook, but she could make a roast. She was not a home maker, but our home would have been impossible to make without her. I miss her. I squandered many opportunities to get to know my mother better, and when I finally found the time, she ran out of time. A terrible disease took her mind, and left behind fragments. This will be covered more in depth in another section, but it is important to mention here in this manor to express fully the privilege it has been to be the son of Kent and Judi Cherry. I say that to say this

Through good times and hard times, good days and bad days, triumph and tragedy, sickness and health, and all the terrible and delightful things between no matter what, you never turn your back on family. My parents are a living testament and incarnation of that truth, and their children are the fruit of its lessons.

Logan and Brandy are my brother and sister. They are twins which I've always thought was kind of cool. They were born almost exactly 11 months after I as born so we grew up very close. They are both my original best friends, and admittedly I took that for granted as a child. I guess really we all did in some way or another.  As little kids we were thick as thieves, then we hit the teen years and grew apart a little as we found our own ways. Then came back together in adulthood. I think that is the holding pattern for most siblings, but I don't know for sure, its just a hunch.

Logan has always been a bit wild. He does what he wants, and does not offer an explanation. If you want one he will give it to you, but he does not waste time attempting to make it make sense to you. If you don't get it, or him, you likely never will. When I think of him I think of the lyrics from mamas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys. " Them that don't like em don't know em and them that do sometimes don't know how to take em. He aint wrong he's just different and his pride wont let em do the things to make you think that he's right." Hes been this way all his life, and I respect him for it more than anyone might guess. Growing up you might have expected him to become the outlaw, and me to become anything but one. However, we really did meet half way as we crossed paths in life. Him on his way to order, and me to chaos.  My brother and I had our fights, and our competition, but more importantly we had each others back. I might say things and do things that piss him off and he me, but anyone else tries and its two against the world if it has to be. Of all the things I cant stand its seeing my brother take blatant disrespect from people. Even before his military career my stance was you either respected him, or you didn't say a word to him. There was no in between. More than one occasion had me face to face with someone convincing them the hard way to back off. Not that Logan couldn't defend himself. He was very much capable, but I needed him, and everyone around him to know and trust that he wouldn't have to. I think that was always the case for him toward me too. Maybe not always, but it definitely matured into that the older we got which suggests the sentiment at the very least was there. Now there isn't anyone I trust more, and only a handful I trust as much. Not just to take my side, but have my best interest at heart. To stand for me, and against me if against me is better for me. Not many folks will understand what that means, but he does.  

Brandy and I have had a strained relationship in our older years. I blame myself. Don't get me wrong we have never to my knowledge officially slammed the door shut on each other, but I think for a very long time what I always believed to be natural sibling banter she has believed to be a malicious attack on her personally. Looking back I can see how it started. There was a time in young adulthood that I would say things just to shock. Brandy was on the receiving end of many of those things. I've never been as good at showing affection as I perceived, and when you mix a lack of affection with shocking, sometimes blatantly rude comments it understandably comes off as mean. Now she would never admit that she was just as guilty of this, but she was. The difference being that I thought it was our own unspoken language of brotherly sisterly love, and she thought I hated her guts so she said shitty things back. I've only very recently realized any of this. It was Christmas of 2023 when she said with tears in her eyes "you really do love me, and you don't hate me." It was over something so simple. I of course didn't let on at all how this affected me, but I was taken back. I realized in that moment just then everything I've written here now. Now I'm not one to break tradition so I'm not going to go and admit any of this to her. Maybe she will read this one day and laugh, but it is important that in case she does read this I say what she has likely been waiting to hear all her life. I love my sister in a way I am barely equipped to talk about. Not unlike my brother I have a deep and abiding respect for her that goes far beyond the years I've enjoyed her company.  I know I've hurt her, I can admit that, and I am ashamed of it. Not because I did it on purpose, but because it took me so long to see it. Its funny in a tragic way. I am a direct man with everyone but my sister. I do not know why that is. Like I said I've always assumed that we had an unspoken understanding. I have never completely understood her, and maybe that's the root of it. She operates in ways that are foreign to me, but that is one of the things I love the most about her. She reminds me daily as I watch her from a distance that despite how right I think I am all the time there is another way, and I should remain tolerant to some degree of that. My tongue is sharp, no one knows that better than her, and ironically its been her that has dulled it for others. 

I have been blessed with many things. Some things I see, and some things I do not. In the time it will take me to witness them all I could re live this life a million times over. I am fortunate to see my family as the blessing they are, and by the grace of God I hope to one day somewhere between now and eternity truly come to apricate every moment gifted as I do my brother and sister.