Deer Run Trail, By David R LewisNodaway Trail, by David R LewisOn the Calico Trail, by David R LewisOn the Payback Trail, by David R LewisOn the Ogallala Trail, by David R LewisOn the Killdeer Trail, by David R LewisOn the Cutthroat Trail, by David R LewisGlory Trail, by David R LewisEndless Journey Toward an Unknown Destination, by David R LewisIncidents Among the Savages, by David R LewisFear of the Father:  Call Me Crockett, by David R Lewis

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Those Less Fortunate

I never saw him wearing anything except a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and the ubiquitous boy’s footwear of the time – black and white Keds tennis shoes.  He was a year or so older than I, but pale and smaller, with a shock of floppy blond hair.  He lived with parents that I never met down the river road a bit closer to the muddy Sangamon than my house.  He didn’t go to school either – a wondrous achievement in my nine-year-old estimation, not having to deal with the boredom, peer pressure, and politics of grade three.

I first saw him as he came walking up the road past my house as I was in the yard struggling to realign the handlebars of my Huffy heavyweight, knocked out of shape by a minor crash into the ditch in front of Randy Clinton’s house as I attempted to avoid running over his mother’s yappy little dog.  He – the boy, not the dog – stood in the road and watched my labor for a moment.  I said, “Hi, Kid,” and he smiled and came closer.  I never even knew his name, but I did realize that he was different.  Kid was not like the rest of us.

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