Description: My friend Jack

I met Jack the year my mother died. My family, my father, my three brothers and I, moved from a farm to the small town in Kansas where I would live until I went to college. Our friendship began because we were about the same age, 6 and 5, and lived across the street from each other. Jack looked like he was made of angles and straight lines. His sharp featured face rested on a body of sharp elbows and thin legs. As sharp as his body was the way he spoke as he expressed strong opinions or gave orders to his younger brothers and sisters. Jack lacked grace in his movements but made up for it with a passion for any game we played. We spent many a full day and night playing baseball in our front yards, chasing our younger brothers and sisters to screams of fear and joy, climbing trees, and, in calmer moments, listening to baseball games on the radio as we played a game we had invented using baseball cards and dice. Jack and I disagreed about some important things since he was a loyal fan of my least favorite team, the New York Yankees. Still we remained friends until I moved away from home to attend college.