My brother, Don, was four years older than me. My brother Bud was four years younger. This caused a lot of controversy between us and the North End kids we played with.

For instance, when Don was 10 years old and I was six, Mom would order Don to take me along when he went out to play with other kids in his age group.

The same situation existed between brother Bud and I. Both of us hated that.

How could we play chase or a ball game or hide-and-seek when a little kid had to be tended to if he fell and scraped a knee or got stung by a bee?

On top of all that, big brother Don had to wear glasses.

The glasses were expensive, something like $6 or $7 a pair. The frames were easily broken and the lenses were made of easy-to-break glass.

Sometimes, one of the guys Don played with would make the mistake of calling him "four eyes." The glasses would come off and be thrown toward me, bare-knuckled fists would fly, one or more of the brittle lenses would smash, and Mom and Dad would have to find the 50 cents or so to pay for a new lens.

Gee, the house we lived in at John and Brock streets (it's still there) had a large wood and coal-burning stove in the kitchen where Grandma could cook the most delicious pies you ever tasted.

It had an oven, four stove lids and a receptacle for warming water to wash dishes and clothes.

A pot-bellied stove in the central area of the house had lots of stove pipe running through the walls and ceiling to warm the living room and the upstairs bedrooms.

Now they tell me that the three or four blocks of Brock Street have been added to Guise Street, and now Brock Street is no more.

Sheesh, General Brock will be spinning in his grave.

Ted Wilcox is a lifetime Hamiltonian with a passion for sports, community and, most of all, family. His column has moved to Tuesdays.