He Likes Pork Chops. I Like Fried Chicken.

When we were growing up he liked Pork Chops. I liked Fried Chicken. Sometimes we had Pork Chops and sometimes we had Fried Chicken. And sometimes we had both.

I was born about 2 ½ years after him. I think Mama must have wanted us to be twins because she always dressed us alike. We both hated that.

We fought like cats and dogs. Mama was always quick to invite people like Scott Posey or Alan Whatley over to spend the night because they would keep us from fighting.

We went to the dentist together and even went to the barber shop together. Mama dragged us to all kinds of awful places. One of my worst memories was hanging out at the dreaded fabric store with my brother for hours on end while Mama picked out fabric. A root canal would have been much more pleasant. And the clerks who worked at the fabric stores were always very glad when Mama finished looking through the fabric books and the Goddard boys were gone. We were not happy campers and we didn’t mind letting everyone know it.

In many ways our personalities were similar. We both loved to talk and loved to laugh. And neither of us struggled with shyness. But we were also in many ways different. I have a vivid mental picture of my brother demanding to wear a pair of work gloves before he held our new puppy when we were little kids. I never needed gloves for that. Actually the more I think about it I always had a dog. I don’t ever remember my brother having anything to do with a dog. That spilled over into our adult lives. He still doesn’t have a dog. My dog is watching me type this blog.

Although we both worked our rear ends off our entire growing up years in our family store, George never had anything to do with the funeral business. If he needed gloves to hold a new live puppy there was no way he would even think about picking up a deceased human being. He made that really clear to everybody early on.

He taught himself to play the guitar. And could play the heck out of it. And he also sang in the school quartet and was even the school’s soloist. I learned how to play a few chords by watching him play the guitar and Mama wouldn’t even let me sing in the shower. I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.


I followed him to high school in a neighboring county. When I went there in the ninth grade everybody knew me because everybody already knew him. I also followed him to the University of Georgia and I joined the same Lambda Chi Alpha fraternity. Again, everybody knew me when I got there because everybody knew him.

The person I have been married to for the past 30 years dated him before she started dating me. I guess she knew me because she already knew him. In fact for the first few months we dated, she called me by his name more than she did my own.

We finally graduated from college and went our separate ways. He became a pharmacist and I became an undertaker. When I went to Mortuary School nobody knew me because he didn’t go there before I got there. I think that was my first experience of really being on my own.

We both turned out okay I think. In many ways we are alike. And in many ways we are different. We both still love to laugh but he is a bit more opinionated than me. We don’t fight anymore and we see each other fairly often and we talk on a regular basis.

In fact I called him today to wish him happy birthday. George Clyde Goddard, named after his two grandfathers, turned 55 years old today. Good lord it is hard to believe he is that old. Life sure went by in a hurry.

A lot has changed over the past 55 years. But one thing never did change.

He still likes Pork Chops. I still like Fried Chicken.

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Disclaimer: The terms "George likes Pork Chops and Bruce likes Fried Chicken" are not my own. Credit should be given to Jessie Mae King from Reynolds, Ga. She coined that phrase. BG