CHAPTER 5 - BEST FRIENDS

            Joey was the bright spot in my childhood, an oasis of love and acceptance in an otherwise indifferent world. I remember when I was about nine years old; Joey was waiting for me when I got home from school one day. It was almost the end of the school year, and he'd been dismissed after only a half-day because of final exams. I saw him as soon as I stepped off the school bus, and I was running to meet him as soon as my feet hit the pavement. "Joeeeeeeeeeey!" I squealed as I launched myself into his arms.

            He caught me in his strong embrace and swung me around in a circle. "Hiya, Squirt! How was school today?"

            I made a face. "Yucky. Mrs. Smith is nuts, and Leslie Parker still hates my guts." My third grade teacher truly was a little strange, always teetering on the crumbling edge of a nervous breakdown. Leslie Parker, on the other hand, was a stuck-up little rich girl who had taken an instant dislike to me even though I'd never done anything to her. That kind of arbitrary animosity annoyed me. If someone was going to dislike me, I thought they ought to at least have the courtesy to wait until I gave them a good reason.

            "Well, I've got a surprise for ya!" He was positively beaming. His eyes twinkled with merriment as he tried vainly to conceal the smile that transformed my uncle from the 16-year-old heartthrob he'd become into the mischievous little boy he'd always been.

            "Whatisit? Whatisit?" I demanded, bouncing up and down in anticipation.

            "If I tell ya, it ain't a secret anymore." After relieving me of my book bag, he took my hand and we walked toward the house together. "C'mon, let's go put your stuff away and I'll show you."

            I dropped my books on my bed and hurried to change out of my school clothes while Joey waited in the den. As soon as I appeared, he pulled a bandanna out of his back pocket and tied it around my eyes. "No peeking," he admonished as he led me into the backyard.

            Blindfolded, with my hand in Joey's, my steps were still sure and unhesitant - such was my unwavering trust in my uncle. We came to a halt beneath the tall cottonwood tree that was already shedding the fluff that floated through the air like summer snowflakes and made my mother sneeze. Joey untied the bandanna and removed it with a flourish. "Ta-da!" he exclaimed.

            I blinked a few times in response to the sudden return of sunlight, then I saw it. Joey had put up a swing for me. It was sanded satin-smooth and varnished to a glossy sheen with my name carved into the seat. I suppose he'd made it in wood shop after school. "Oh, wow!" I threw my arms around his narrow waist and gave him an enthusiastic hug. "You're the best uncle in the whole wide world!"

            "Well, let's try it out." He held the swing in place while I took my seat. Then he sent me sailing happily into the air. He spent many hours that summer pushing me in the swing while I giggled and shrieked with delight.

            Joey was always doing things for me. I remember when he won a huge stuffed Snoopy one year at the state fair. Instead of giving it to his date, though, he brought it home to me and hid it in my closet as a surprise. It certainly surprised me. I almost jumped out of my skin when I opened the closet door and came unexpectedly nose to snout with that enormous stuffed dog.

            Joey taught me to roller skate. We spent endless Saturday mornings at the Lake Worth Skating Rink going around in circles while The Monkees sang Last Train to Clarksville or Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass played the theme from Zorba the Greek. He taught me things like how to catch a football, how to hit a baseball, and how to ride a bicycle. He listened to my hopes, my dreams, my cares, and my complaints.

            Joey fanned the flame of my love for music, encouraging me to sing at every opportunity. I was born with a strong singing voice and blessed with the ability to carry a tune. Consequently, I had been singing in church with the children's choir since the age of three. Joey persuaded my parents to let me try out for the adult sanctuary choir, even though I was the first ten-year-old in the church's history to do so. And no one was happier than Joey when the rules were bent and I was accepted. Everything I did, I did with the goal of making Joey proud of me. His smile of approval was all that I ever wanted or needed. When he was killed in Vietnam, a part of me died too.