Why am I known as JBTHEMILKER

The story goes way back to when I was in the fifth grade in Concord Mass. I was in a 5th grade class of about 200 students. I assume about half of those were girls. Of the boys in my class, there were three boys named Chris Smith. There were five boys named Jeff Brown. I was one of the Jeff Browns.
There was some confusion at times. At one point, Jeff Brown was called to report to the principal’s office. I assumed, as two of the other Jeff Browns did, that I had done something wrong and headed off to face my punishment. As it turned out, none of the Jeff Browns, who went to the principal’s office had done what we had been summonsed for. It was one of the two, who had not reported.
Each of the Jeff Browns found a way to distinguish himself from the others. I was one of three, Jeff A Brown, Jeff B Brown, and Jeff C Brown. We all used our full names with the accent on the middle initial. So I became know as Jeff B Brown, with the accent on the B.
When I left that school system to go away to boarding school, I found there were many other Jeff Browns in the world. I wanted to have a unique name. I could not get people to call me Jeff B Brown anymore. I, too soon, became just one more of the many Jeff’s to be found anywhere I went. In my first writing class in college, we were all asked to use pen names. There was one student in that college named Preston Ralph MacKinnon. We all called him “PR”. I liked the way using the two first initials sounded. It was in that creative writing calls in college that I first used the name “JB”. I soon became known as JB Brown. From then on when I introduced myself, I would call myself JB Brown.
I wrote for many years under the name JB Brown.
In 1998 I was living on a dairy farm. I became friends with the son of the father-son operation on the dairy farm. I was working as a local truck driver, but I was always intrigued by the farm, the cows and the operation of milking and feeding the herd.
Rick was the son. He was very tired of milking. He would milk in the afternoon, at 2 pm, six times a week, and he would also milk one time, on Sunday morning, at 2 am, so his father could have a day off.
No matter what else was going on around the farm, planting, haying, corn to be chopped, the cows always had to be milked and they had to be milked on time.
Rick was sick of milking. He had been in partnership with his dad for about 20 years. I would go down to the milking parlor and talk to him when I was home and he was milking. At first when I was in the milking parlor with Rick during the milking, the cows would act out, but as I started to come more and more, and as I got to know the animals, they got more comfortable with me. Rick would let me help with the milking. He started by showing me how to put the suction cups on, then he let me control the flow of cows, six coming in as six were going out. Slowly, over several months, Rick gained more trust in my ability. He would allow me to gather the cows in the waiting room, and he would allow me to help set all the valves of the apparatus so he could cut down on the time it took to get the milking done.
After I had been helping him for several months, on a, “come if you have time” sort of basis, I bought an old farm pick-up from the farm. (Bear with me here. This all has to do with my name.) The Old 1973 Ford F250 was in need of a lot of work. Rick would offer to install parts that I bought for my new truck, if I would milk for him. The farm had a shop right along side the milking parlor. He could put new brakes on my truck while I did the milking. He was happy to be doing something other then milking, yet he was close enough, that if I had a question, or needed help, I could get him quick enough. I thoroughly enjoyed the milking. I had 104 cows, who loved and depended on me. I made as many deals with Rick as I could so I would be able to do the milking. The old Ford ran like a top, and I got more and more chances to milk the cows.
Rick was in the middle of a heated custody battle with his ex-wife over his three kids. They had had two children, an eight-year-old boy, Levi, and an 11-year-old girl, Jennifer. Then when she got pregnant again, she left him and divorced him, and she wanted to have full custody over their kids. Rick was in this battle all the time I knew him. It was a big part of what we talked about as I helped him to milk. We became very close friends and confidants.
Well, Rick ended up taking a shotgun one night and he shot his wife, his three month out daughter, Levi and himself. Jennifer got away alive but she had been shot in the femur, the upper leg. Jennifer lay with her dead family until the father came to milk at 2 am and saw the lights all on and the ex’s car in the driveway and went to investigate. After Rick’s death I made a deal with Bob, the father. I would milk the cows 12 times a week for room and board plus a small wage. I would step into his son’s boots as best I could. This meant the father was able to pretty much retire. He just milked twice a week so I could have a day off. I was milking at two in the morning and two in the afternoon. I had a job I really liked.
Rick had had a computer. I never had used one. I had been loaned a laptop to do a bit of writing on, just enough to know that I wanted a computer with a word processing program on it. I had never had any experience with the Internet at this point. When Rick died and I started milking, I got most of his cloths. (I am wearing a pair of his dress boots, right now) I was asked if there was anything else of his that I wanted. I asked if I could use his computer.
So, I was now on the Internet for the very first time. I had to pick a screen name. I tried JB that was too short. I tried JB Brown. That had been taken. The next one I tried was JBTHEMILKER. That one was OK! I was JB and I was a milker. I liked my new screen name. Everything I have written, (and I have done a considerable amount) from then until now, I have written under the screen name of JBTHEMILKER. I still maintain the same AOL address that I established there at the dairy farm, JBTHEMILKER@aol.com. I love to get emails. Feel free if you are reading this to send me an email. I make it a priority to answer my emails.