Sandlot Investment Company

Standard Disclaimer: This is a mostly fictional portrayal based on mostly purely coincidental artistic license taken with a factual accounting of some brief events that may involve potentially explicit language and possibly graphic gay sex. If you are underage and/or offended by such, please exit now. You can email your critique to me at PointGuardMo@AOL.com (mailto:PointGuardMo@AOL.com)

SandLot Investment Company Part I by Christopher Robin Chapter 1 I parked the Jag in the garage and made my way around the other vehicles heading toward the kitchen entrance. Since leaving the office moments earlier my mind, as usual, had been working in overdrive. It wasn't uncommon for me to keep late hours at the office but tonight was different. I should have been home over an hour ago. After all, most, if not all, of my professional and domestic staff was inside for our annual Christmas party. I could hear the revelry as I entered the kitchen. My plan was to slip up the back landing and grab a shower and change of clothes before coming down to join my friends and associates. Alas, the best laid plans and all that. Jack was seated at the breakfast bar chatting with Megan and Kathy, two of the young ladies who catered such affairs for me. He immediately jumped up and announced my arrival to those within earshot. "Hey, Mr. Scrooge. What kept you?" beamed the smiling Jack Wells. "Hi Jack. Sorry I'm late," I said, looking around the kitchen at the huge amount of equipment and supplies Megan had brought in for this event. "I just needed to get that set of parameters finished for the optimization run on the new procedure," I said, still addressing Jack as I watched the girls working, "That calc is going to be running on both networks for the next six days.

I just wanted it to get started before leaving for the holidays." "Boss, you didn't have to do that," frowned Jack, "Greg and I were planning to take care of that tomorrow. One of these days, you're just going to have to learn that we're not going to drop the ball on you. Trouble is, if you don't give us a chance, you're never going to find out how good we really are." "I know how good you guys are," I smiled, then added, looking directly at him. "I'd just prefer all of you had the entire two weeks to spend with your families and not have your vacation interrupted by anything work related. Anyway, it's all taken care of." "I'm hoping you're ready to relax a little now. You have close to a hundred guests milling about through the house and most of them have ask where you were, oh, I guess on average about three or four times a piece," his grinned, knowing it was it was a pointless effort to try and manage my schedule, "I just tell them you won't be home and in the spirit until all the ghosts of Father Christmas get done with you," he chuckled. Jack Wells was my number two. He was a dashing looking young man from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. His sandy hair was always groomed to perfection, never a stran d out of place. He still had a little of those freckled face features and those puppy dog brown eyes that had gotten my attention the first day he had walked into my office those many years ago. His 6 foot frame carried 170 pounds of what always appeared to me as solid muscle. He had just hit the big three-o this year and was considered an old man by our mostly college age staff. Me? I had passed the half-century mark four years ago and the appropriate description was ancient, at least in the eyes of the young kids who worked in our private trading firm. Jack's title was operations manager but he mostly took care of anything and everything business related. I admit it was pretty routine for me to get involved with anything in the business but the truth is, I had long ago forced myself to give up most of my direct responsibilities to Jack and the rest of our team. I've never regretted it. Trading was a young person's game and I wasn't the gunslinger I had once been. Sure, I stayed in practice but for the most part we were systems traders nowadays. It was all statistics and a myriad of algorithms. Computers executed the vast majority of all buy and sell transactions. We did train our traders to be able to go "Live" and many were good at it. I still hadn't lost the touch but the wear and tear of battling in the markets could take a toll on a human being. The computers eliminated about ninety-nine percent of that grind. "Before I forget," said Jack, "Greg wanted me to tell you he's got a possible newhire for you. I think it's another one of them kid geniuses he keeps recruiting. He said you `just had' to meet this one in person. He flew him in for the party tonight." "Excuse me, Mr. Little," interrupted Megan as she continued working on the trays arrayed on her side of the kitchen counters, "we've been serving cocktails and horderves for about an hour. We have dining set up on the deck for all your guests and were planning to start serving at 7:30." I glanced at the clock realizing that I probably wasn't going to have time to shower and change, not if I was going to greet my visitors before dinner. "That'll be fine, Megan," I said. "Do you have enough staff?" "Yes sir. Three of the other girls are here and we have three guys from U of M helping out tonight. Everything should go pretty smooth." "I hope you don't mind holding down the fort for another five minutes or so, " I added looking at Jack. "I need to splash some water on my face. I'll be right out." "No problem, David. I'll just make sure the bartenders are still filling the glasses with holiday cheer." He was smiling as he left the kitchen to mingle with the throng scattered throughout the estate. I slipped up the back landing and into the master suite without any additional encounters. I could hear the band playing on the deck outside. The music sounded good, really good. I guess it was finally time I forgot about the office for a time and soaked in some of the holiday spirit. I threw my jacket and tie on the bed and removed my shirt as I headed to the bath. I intended to shave and shower anyway. I'd just have to make it a navy shower, one of those three minute kinds.

• • • * * * I finished dressing and stepped out of the suite onto the balcony overlooking the deck below and into the magic of the holiday atmosphere that engulfed my little oasis. The night lights of Fort Lauderdale bounced brilliant reflections off the intercoastal waterway. My home, actually more like a family compound, is located at the end of a peninsula in the Harbor Beach community. All the yachts moored at the docks up and down the wide waterway were decked out in holiday trimmings to rival the seasonal decorations on display at the adjacent estates. My place was no exception and tonight the 112 foot Suncruiser moored just beyond the pool was just an extension of the house. I watched as a few of the guests went aboard for a tour as others were disembarking. I had two racing boats that were tied along side the dock just behind the "Sea Stallion" and there I spotted Greg Morris showing the beauties to a handful of young guys from the office. Greg is twenty-six and has been with our operations for a little over five years. He is a Missouri farm boy, born and bred. He came on board during his junior year at the University of Miami. He was probably the most attractive man I had ever come across in my entire life. He had the charisma to match.

This man could have you eating out of the palm of his hand in a matter of minutes if you weren't on your guard. Even then, there were no guarantees. He looked a bit military in his appearance, reminding me of a young marine from the navy days of my own youth. His hair was a closely cropped blond, his eyes a hypnotizing blue and he possessed the most amazing ability to disarm anyone with the sincerity and warmth of his smile. He was five-foot, eight inches and built just like one of those young marines I had so often encountered on the west coast naval bases. His skin always looked smooth as silk and if I didn't know how old he really was, I'd guess maybe fifteen or sixteen, tops. He was just the kind of guy you couldn't help enjoy being around and I knew I was more than just lucky to have him in my employ. He was so full of life he was infectious and I wanted his infection to be visited on everyone in my care. He did not disappoint. Greg is gay, or so he's told me, as are about a third of my employees, but I' ve never known him to be attached to anyone. As a matter of fact, I really didn't know him to date much at all, if any; but he'd sure made his interests in me known on more occasions than I could count. I've always been extremely careful in our association. I spend time with him, go to dinner, a play here and there, sporting events, a few trading seminars, a lot of time together out on the water and a few times we have flown over to Paradise Island in the Bahamas for some games at the casinos, but I always manage to keep a healthy distance between my emotions and those of the golden boy from SandLot Investments. Yeah, Greg is one awesome jock, I thought, and a wide smile, unbidden, spread across my face, as I admired him giving his audience the technical details of the racing crafts, an investment he had coaxed me into a couple summers ago. Most of the guys in our little company are studs but all the girls and quite a few of the guys are always lining up wanting him to be the one to punch their dance cards. For the life of me I can't figure how he can possibly turn them all down time after time. Maybe I just don't know as much as I sometimes think I do. We are overly selective in our recruiting. We want brains, good character and creative thinkers but one of the critical profile components required of our recruits is a strong self discipline. The markets make mince meat out of the undisciplined or those lacking a strong inclination in that way. I figured if a person were truly disciplined it would naturally characterize all aspects of who they were. I've always had the philosophy that if I want to be increasingly successful at what I'm doing I am going to "hire up". I want everyone in the firm to be able to surpass my abilities as well as accomplishments in whatever it is they are going to be doing. Greg has been the recruiter for new talent for over two years now and he is always trying to outdo himself. A success for Greg, for the firm for that matter, is to bring someone new in who is a cut above the rest of us. The bar naturally just continues to get higher and higher with each new recruit. I noticed Megan had come out onto the deck below from the other end of the house and was looking around. When her eyes finally landed on me, she nodded questioningly. I nodded back and made my way down from my vista and over to the band, exchanging greetings with the boys and girls I bumped into along the way. The celebration was beginning to rub off on me and I could feel myself being lifted to the level of merriment being shared by these young people. The band was still playing a holiday tune so I waited a few seconds until the song was finished before stepping to the microphone. "My friends, if I could have your attention, please." I waited a few moments as the crowd flowed toward me from all directions. "First, I'd like to apologize for my tardiness and welcome you, each and everyone, to my home. This is a season of the year when we try to pause and remember each other in a very special way, with gifts and special parties or dinners, with holiday decorations and songs, with a stolen moment under the mistletoe or maybe just the right greeting card for those we cherish most fondly. This season is the season of Love. Officially, it comes but once a year, but I must confess to you, my friends, that thanks to all of you, I feel blessed to enjoy the spirit of these days not just now during the holiday but each and every day all year long. Thank you from the bottom of my heart." I had to stop speaking as applause erupted from my guests. I looked slowly from one to the next, trying to make eye contact with as many as possible, wanting to thank them individually and make sure they each knew how much I sincerely appreciated them, not just for their contributions to my business or the running of the estate or yacht, but mostly just for their sharing their lives with me. As the applause subsided, I continued, "Now most of you guys know I like to talk but the truth is I'm not very fond of giving speeches to a crowd so as Megan has informed me that she is prepared to serve a holiday feast to be remembered, well, I'm just going to ask you guys to find a seat at one of the tables and then I'm going to shut up. I would like to say again how much I truly appreciate each one of you. You guys are my family and there's not a single one of you that I could fathom living without. I love you all so very much. I hope you enjoy the dishes that have been prepared just for you." Again, a boisterous applause filled the night air. Everyone began migrating to seats at various tables and the band resumed playing its selection of holiday tunes. As I stepped away from the microphone, I removed my glasses and nonchalantly swiped at the mist that seemed to want to form in my right eye.

Replacing my glasses I looked around the deck as seats were being filled. The cheer was obviously strong here on our little peninsula. My wandering eyes stopped as they rested on the handsome blond boy standing and watching me from just the other side of the pool. The seemingly ever present smile was warm in the glow of the holiday lights and I returned Greg's smile with a nod.

He started coming toward me and I knew enough to figure he had probably already reserved a couple seats for the two of us. I waited, not wanting to disappoint him or anyone else, especially not tonight, not here, not when everything was so perfect for me. "Who are we missing?" I asked Greg as he walked up to me. "No one. Everyone is here and then some," he replied. "Oh and by the way, I 've got someone I want you to meet." He took my arm to lead me among the tables toward the other end of the pool. "Jack said you had someone new you were thinking of adding to the staff." I 'm sure I knew everyone in my employ, some more so than others, but it was never a requirement that I approve any newhire in advance. Greg and Jack made those decisions nowadays and I've never had any cause to second guess them. We had zero turnover and that's after almost seven years of officially being incorporated as SandLot Investments. Greg stopped at the table occupied by Jack, his wife and what looked like two other couples. I knew all except him. He must be the new guy, I thought, as I stared at the brown haired boy wearing wire frame glasses. He was sitting with Leslie, the twenty-three year old office manager that behind her amazing feminine beauty hid one of the quickest wits and set of brains I'd ever encountered. She was a stickler for details and an organizational whiz. Give her a project concept and she'd have a power point presentation in half an hour. I guess I was really staring because I heard Leslie say, "You look like you just saw Marley's ghost." "Huh? Oh, I'm sorry. How is everyone tonight? Hi, Jennifer," (Jennifer is Jack's wife). "Leslie, Craig, Pam," I nodded to each as I made eye contact around the table, eventually bringing my vision back to the brown haired boy with the wire frame glasses. He seemed pretty reserved, maybe a little timid; then again, it could be because he was new here and hadn't had the chance to get to know too many people yet. "David, this is Bobby McLean from the University of Texas. Bobby, David Little," said Greg. "He's our host, well, boss too, but he doesn't play too much like a boss. David, Bobby is thinking about coming to work with us. He said he'd heard of you and was really interested in meeting you." I was sure that in the array of all the seasonal lighting surrounding our little festival, the boy was showing signs of embarrassment. I glance at Greg. He was smiling but there was something familiar about the way he was smiling and it put me on my guard. He was up to some mischief. I knew him well enough to know I was being set up. I just didn't know what I was being set up for. "Bobby, I hope you enjoy yourself this evening. If there is anything I can do, any questions you have or anything else, I'm available anytime. Please make yourself at home and I mean that sincerely," I said, looking at him as hard as I guess I've probably looked at anyone is quite some time. He might be twenty-one. I couldn't say for sure. He did stand up so he could reach to shake my hand. I guessed he was maybe five-foot seven, probably not more than 140 pounds if that. He looked to be in great shape. When I took his hand to shake, faint blue flashes of static electricity shot from the connection and the table erupted immediately in what seemed like an uproar. I didn't pay too much attention to anyone else; I was somehow locked in eye contact with this new kid. Yeah, I'd notice the sparks. Evidently so did he. The natural thing to have done was to abruptly withdraw our hands from each other, like the reaction of touching a hot stove. Strange, it never occurred to me to do that. We had proceeded with our hand shake as though sparks like that were as natural as the air around us. Now that I thought of it, I was still holding his hand.

I let go and he slowly sank back into his seat. I glanced quickly at the others seated at the table and they appeared to be rather speechless. "I'm really glad you all are here," I said. "I'm hoping this is going to be a holiday that you'll always cherish, that it'll be filled with enough wonder, you'll be able to rekindle the magic we all use to know on those nights long ago when we all still believed in old saint nick." "We'll see you guys after we eat," said Greg, directing me back towards the other end of the pool, where I assumed he must have a couple seats set aside for us. About halfway across the deck I turned and looked back at Jack's table. They were all back in conversation with one another, a server was placing the first course in front of each one, but there was one pair of eyes which were still focused in our direction, well, on me, actually. I stopped for a minute, looking back at Bobby. I don't really know why I did that. I was thinking hard but I couldn't figure out what I was even trying to figure out. "Merry Christmas, David," Greg softly said from beside me. I turned back to him and I'm sure I had such a questioning look on my face he had to know that I was almost, if not entirely, lost, somewhere I'd never been before, not that I could recall. Greg just gave me another one of those smiles, the kind that makes one feel genuinely touched inside, the kind that always make me grab a hold of myself lest I fall into some crevice in the world where there'd be no way and no chance of escape. He nodded for me to follow and led the way on across the deck to where we were to sit. "What do you think?" he asked as we seated ourselves at a table with four other guests. Lisa Winsted sat next to me; Greg had the seat on my other side. Beside him sat Amanda Miller, then Steve Brown and his wife, Barb. I ignored Greg's question for the moment and occupied myself with the other guests at our table. A barely legal looking Hispanic kid, one of Megan's U of M guys, was serving our table. We all exchanged pleasantries, toasted the holidays and a well deserved two week vacation, about which I was thanked a couple times, then I turned by attention back to Greg. "What do you mean? What do I think? You know you don't need my approval for hiring decisions." He leaned over and whispered to me, "You're being evasive." I leaned my head back away from him and looked at him, again with a confused look on my face, only this time he recognized it as a mask and almost drowned on the drink he was drinking as his laughter fought to escape past the liquid and from his body. He sat the drink down and I swear, I almost never knew him to be having so much fun. He was most definitely up to something and I wasn't sure I had the total layout of his plan figured out yet. Well, any guess I'd have couldn't begin to match how bad it would really be. He was way smarter than I'd ever imagined being. I really was confused, but I wasn't worried about anything, not too much anyway. I loved Greg. I know I trusted him, all except in the way I would never trust someone I worked with or most especially someone who was employed by me. My rule, for myself, was I don't go there. Period. End of Discussion. It wasn't that I didn't trust him or any of the others that I could easily have fallen for, male or female. It was just that I had responsibilities to all of them. I didn't need to get myself mixed up in something that might, even remotely, have the potential to create difficulties in my fulfilling those responsibilities for all those in my care. I owed each and every one of them my best efforts, same as I expected from them. I didn't see how it would be even just a little bit possible to get some May-December romance going that wouldn't be inviting a whole batch of problems, compounded by the fact that we shared a common workplace. It was unthinkable. Okay, Maybe it was May-August or May-September. I don't know but everything right now was just the way I had made it and it was working great. I was a happy guy. I wasn't lonely. I didn't need any more than I had. Matter of fact, I had so much, I tried to share as much as I could. Even then I figured I must be wasting more than half of what I had been gifted with. Greg leaned over again, "Didn't you feel those sparks?" "Hey, I just got out of the shower a few minutes earlier, fresh clothes and plus there's probably a static charge in the air with all the decorations and things." "How many other times did that happen to you tonight?" "Okay, maybe it was, I don't know, where I was standing, where he was standing. It was just a fluke. Neat, I admit, but still just a fluke." "You're telling me you don't believe in magic?" "Uh...." He was pressing and I was scrambling for answers. "I, okay, I grant you that it was interesting, okay, now satisfied? Come on Greg, what do you want me to say?" "I want you to tell me what was so obvious to everyone else sitting at that table. You were smitten on the spot." He was smiling this self-satisfied smile like he couldn't be more pleased with himself. I was used to Greg taking an interest in the intimacy of my life or maybe the lack of intimacy, but always before it had involved him attempting to gain access. Now, here he had gone and found someone who he was convinced was perfect for me and I'm quite sure was further convinced that I would not be able to resist and he was full of himself because of his assumed success with his latest recruiting effort. "Where did you say he was from?" "University of Texas. Grew up just north of Dallas. Lived there all his life. He's a winner. Trust me on this. He's got depth beyond anything I ever saw before. He's part cowboy, part artist, part Einstein, a hell of a musician and he can probably beat the shit out of twenty of us with his second degree black belt in Aiki-Jujitsu." "How old is he?" "He just celebrated his twenty-first birthday the day before Thanksgiving. He's working on his second masters at UT right now. He'll finish that this spring. He already has an MBA." "What position are you offering him?" "I haven't offered him anything." "I don't understand. Jack said he was a potential newhire." "Well Jack doesn't know everything about this. I didn't think this was a routine candidate. David; he called me. He knows a good bit about you, about the company, everything you had to go through to get it up and running. He knows it's impossible to walk in off the street and fill out an application. He asked me if he could send me his file and if I would look it over and consider introducing him to you. I said, of course, but I didn't think that much about it until the FedEx delivery the next day. I opened the file, I guess, out of passing curiosity, but once I started reading, well I was in my office late that night. I couldn't put it down. It was amazing. The next day I made about a dozen phone calls to check his legitimacy. Those two days, the first of the month, when I flew to Texas, this is what it was all about. I' m telling you. Not only is he for real, he comes with the highest possible recommendations. This kid is, well, perfect for you. That's all I can say."

"Greg. I mean I really appreciate all your interest, well you know, mostly, but I don't know where you get this idea that I need somebody like that. I' m happy, more happy than I've ever been and even more happy than 99.99% of the rest of the world. I kid you not. I am a very contented fellow. I've got all you guys and you guys mean the world to me. I really don't need you trying to find someone to fill a void in my life that's just not there. I mean I don't want you to misunderstand. I'd do anything in the world for you. I 'd give my last red cent and even if it came to it, my last drop of blood. You and the rest of these kids here are my life and trust me, my friend, I'm telling you I can't possibly imagine anything that would make it more full than it already is." "How many hours a week do you work on average?" "I don't know, a lot I guess, but we do things. I mean, come on, you and I have been to the Bahamas twice this year. We were in Vegas in October, in New York during the summer, in Chicago in May. We've raced, cruised, and had a

dozen of these little outings for the entire workforce just this past year. Okay, I admit, when I'm working, I get into it, but you should see that I play a lot too." "Let me ask you something. I want you to think some before answering this. If none of us were around, would you take those trips, would you go cruising the oceans in the Sea Stallion? I know you wouldn't be racing. You wouldn' t even have the boats if I hadn't twisted your arm. I think probably 99.99% of what you do, you do for us," he said, sweeping his arm in an arc to take in all the seated guests now celebrating our company Christmas dinner with us. "I'm not sure what you're getting at. Of course I enjoy working and playing with you guys. You're all like family to me." "David, that's just it. We love you, you know that, but we're you're friends, maybe closer than most families, but we're still just your friends. Family is more intimate than that. You won't let any of us get that close to you. You know how hard I've tried. Well, I'm trying to tell you. You've got another chance, a chance that I don't see how could be more perfect, a chance for you to have a real family with all the intimacy that entails, a chance I couldn't get you to take with me. Please tell me you'll at least think about it this time. I love you more than you'll ever be able to dream. I want so much for you to have this." I don't remember Greg ever tearing up before or pleading with me for that matter. I wasn't stupid. I think I had a pretty good idea what he was getting at. I just wasn't sure he understood that that was something maybe I just didn't need. I mean most people could barely dream about having it as good as I had it and I'm not talking about all the material trappings of success. I' m talking about the true friendships, the love we all shared. Hell, even what Greg was doing right now, that was unimaginable. I knew how Greg felt. I

cared for him deeply and he knew that too. On that there was no doubt in my mind. Here he was pulling a Charles Darnay move, giving up something he wanted with a great deal of passion because he thought maybe, in some way, he just couldn't fill the bill. I sat there as we finished the courses of the meal. We shared some chit chat with the other guests at the table. I know they knew that Greg and I had been in deep conversation but it didn't seem to have dampened their festive spirits. I'd survey the other guests around the deck from time to time. Everyone seemed to be having a grand time. What more could I possibly ask for? This was what it was all about. I was happy and they were happy. I be damned if I could believe I should be wanting more, especially something I didn't even believe I was missing. I had it all but the only thing I really cared ab out was the joy in the hearts of all those seated at the various tables around that deck that night. We were finishing our desserts when I saw Jack coming to our end of the pool. I watch as he went to the microphone and motioned the band to silence. "My very special friends. As David said earlier, this is the season for Love. I'd like for us to show our appreciation to the staff that has made this awesome feast in this grand atmosphere possible for us this evening." There was a round of applause. I watched Megan standing in the doorway, smiling. Her helpers around the deck were clearing tables and seemed a bit taken back by the unexpected attention. "Tonight," Jack continued. "before we move inside for some games, dancing or whatever else you desire, I have a special gift to present." There were, all of a sudden, too many eyes focused on me not to know that these guys had been cooking up something behind my back. "Seven years ago, I was the first newhire for SandLot Investments. The guy who hired me and hired some of you is sitting here to my right, our host, David Little." There was another round of applause. "Most of you don't know how hard David worked to bring us all to the place we are today and he wouldn't appreciate me dwelling on it now. This much I will say, somewhere way back before he hired me, for some of you, I'm sure you 're imagining T-Rex and Velociraptors and their kin," there was laughter and

he continued, "but anyway, David learned that Loving means giving. He has tried to teach us in many ways the same lessons he learned. We have all been made so rich in so many ways by what David has given us. I can't begin to list the ways." There was another round of applause. "What's more, and I'm breaking a rule by talking about some of this stuff here, but I'm going to anyway, maybe I won't get into too much trouble." Again there was laughter. "A few of you know that SandLot Investments is a major contributor to a number of worldwide charities. David doesn't want this to become public knowledge so what is said here, what you hear here, needs to stay here when you leave here. This year, we, you and I and David, through SandLot Investments made multimillion dollar contributions to each of twelve prominent world relief organizations. Whether it is Doctors without borders, the ICRC, Habitat for Humanity, the Children's defense fund, or any of the others, there are hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of people around the world tonight who are grateful for the wonderful work each of you contribute to every day. This is what David started so many years ago, all on his own, but in the last several years has brought each of us on board at some point along his way to share his journey with him." They were all standing. I was sitting there, trying to smile, choking on the emotion that I wasn't going to let get the best of me. I didn't take to eulogies real well, especially those for the living and most particularly one directed in my back yard. Jack was talking again, "Now we come here tonight again celebrating the Love we have for one another and most significantly the Love that this man sitting here has shared with us. I'm not talking about the bonuses we each receive this time every year, though since I sign the checks I can tell you that the smallest bonus to anyone of you is greater than my base salary and I have the largest salary in the company. What I guess I'm trying to say is that I've never in my life known someone to be as generous and giving, as downright loving as my good friend, David Little." There was another round of applause. "David, tonight your friends, or family as you so often refer to us, have combined our efforts and we have a very special gift we've been able to scrounge up for you. Can you come up here for a minute please?" Now I knew I was in trouble. About this time is when if I had any pull in the universe, we'd have a power failure, maybe a category 5 hurricane, just anything to derail what these guys had cooked up. I really am not very good at this end of the deal, nope, not one bit. I'm just sorry. That's the way it is. For as far back as I can remember, it's always been a heck of a lot easier for me to give rather than to receive. "I'd also like to introduce you to a new member of our family, "Jack continued, "which I hope you'll all get to know really well in the near future and will make him feel especially comfortable and at home with us. My friends, please show your welcome for Mr. Bobby McLean who flew in from the University of Texas to be with us this grand evening." Everyone was standing, applauding as the brown haired boy with the wire frame glasses came walking up the deck from the other end. I was standing near Jack at the microphone and couldn't help but catch the exchange of looks and wide grins between Greg and the man at the microphone. It was too late. I had no choice now. I had to go along with their little ride no matter how far it went. I really wasn't good at this and my stomach was in knots. I mean it actually hurt. They were torturing me and to listen to Greg tell it, well, it was for my own good. Go figure. I watched the angelic young boy walking toward where we stood. Angelic? What the hell was I thinking? These guys were planting thoughts in my head. I better get a grip. It occurred to me that my legs were really tired. Maybe I should excuse myself and go lie down for a bit; then again, maybe I just needed to go jump in the deep end of that pool over there. Yeah, that should clear this fog out of my mind pretty damn quick. As Bobby neared the mic, Jack moved to the side to allow him to take the position to speak. Greg had moved to the other side of Jack and was holding a large thin folder. "Most of you don't know me, never even heard of or saw me before this evening," Bobby began. "So the first thing I'd like to do is introduce myself. This past May I was the youngest recipient in the history of UT to receive an MBA. My thesis was simply entitled David Little and The SandLot Investment Company. My reviewers said it was an amazing piece of work but the truth is it was just an amazing subject." I was listening. This was really pretty interesting. Everybody was listening. Bobby didn't speak with any reservations.

He had a strong voice. He had captured the audience as well or better than anyone I had come across before. Maybe it was just out of so much curiosity but he had a cadence in his voice that almost compelled you to listen intently, not wanting to miss anything. "I never met David Little until just tonight as the servers began bringing the first course of our delectable dinner. It was a one of a kind meeting. I 'm confident, regardless of my age, I had a once in a lifetime experience meeting Mr. David Little tonight." He stopped talking and turned to look at me. "I've shook hands with three presidents, not to mention a host of other very important persons in positions of privilege and prestige, but in all sincerity, David, they were nothing compared to you." I furrowed my brow, not really understanding what that was all about. "The remarkable thing about David, I hope it's okay just to call you David,"

again he glanced at me. I just gave him a shrug like, no problem here, man. "As I was saying, the most amazing thing about David is he doesn't at all consider himself remarkable. He's bested the best of the Wall Street Wizards and the Commodity Traders in Chicago and to him, it's just another day at the office. He's devoted his company to the service of his employees and his fellowmen and to him it's just the way it is, nothing remarkable. All these other folks I've met, and I don't have anything bad to say about any of them, but these folks, to a man or woman, they want to boast about their achievements. They are who they are because of their past accomplishments or the positions they've held. David is just who he is. He doesn't celebrate his achievements; he doesn't seek nor, for the most part, accept any publicity and you all can vouch for the fact that he does not trade on his position as the head of probably the most successful private trading enterprise of the modern capitalist era. When most people think of SandLot Investments, the picture they imagine is that of Greg Morris or Jack Wells, but the truth is, without David Little, there would never have been a SandLot investments. I just wanted

to reiterate that the most intoxicating characteristic most people see in David Little is the gentle beauty of his humility, how little he considers himself to be unique or special while worshiping all of you, each and everyone, as the most remarkable people anyone could ever possibly imagine." Bobby stopped talking and slowly scanned his audience. The effect seemed to be working, whatever was intended. I could see many heads nodding in agreement. Greg handed the folder across Jack to the outstretched hand of Bobby McLean who resume his talking, "Tonight I've been honored beyond my wildest imaginings to make a presentation of this year's Christmas gift to a man we all admire, a man who teaches those around him the sincerest meaning of the word love, a man who I personally have come to idolize for his character, his wisdom, his warmth and for the amazing quality of love that bonds him to all those in his sphere of influence. I don't know if I'll ever get to be a permanent member of your team, David," he said, looking at me, "but just visiting with some of your companions here this evening has already confirmed what I've believed in my heart for over two years, ever since I started working on the thesis for my MBA. You are truly the most remarkable of them all." There was applause. They were all still standing. I thought this was going a little too far. I mean, I appreciate all the good thoughts and all, but hey, for me this is getting thick. "I'm sure this ceremony has been more than a bit embarrassing for David," Bobby continued, "so without further delay, David, I'd like to present you with this token of affection from your staff, your friends, your family." He handed me the folder. I nodded to him, to Jack and Greg and to my guests still standing at their tables. "Go ahead, open it, look inside," said Greg leaning over to the microphone.

There was laughter in our audience. I opened the folder and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It looked to be a certificate. No, a deed, the cover sheet to a title document. I squinted in the not so bright lights trying to make out the words printed there. "David," Bobby continued, "this is the cover sheet to the title of your very own 1700 acre private island in the Bahamas. The island has been renamed SandLot Island. There's never been any commercial development on the island. It's just a deserted acreage in the middle of the Caribbean overgrown with breathtaking tropical foliage. You can do with it anything you wish. I have been offered the opportunity to take you on a tour of the island if you'll agree and I can be ready any day any hour you wish to weigh anchor." I was shocked, truly, absolutely, completely floored. There were pains bouncing off the inside of my cranium and cutting deep into that gray area I'd always hoped would stay with me for a while. It was near impossible for me to get my comprehension around what I'd just been told. I knew the value of some of those islands. I had at one time long ago looked into that possibility. These things cost millions, several millions. This wasn't a gift anyone standing there on my deck could afford. I had to think fast. I looked at Bobby, at Jack, at Greg and out over the tentative faces of my friends scattered around the deck. I didn't have a choice. I had to accept. I couldn't. This was way too much. I didn't need this. These people sacrificed, I mean they had to save for this. How could I accept something so generous, so damn generous? I stood there just staring at the words on the sheet of paper. I couldn't read them, not in that light, but I wasn't trying to read. I was drawing a blank. I know why they did it. I never intended for something like this to happen. I didn't want anything like this to happen. How could I possibly accept so much from each of them? I mean if you added up all their bonuses and their salaries for the last two years, I'm not sure it would cover the cost of this island. What was I going to do? What could I possibly say? Bobby had taken a step away from the microphone to make room for me so I slowly scooted into position. I don't know if you could have heard a pin drop out there right then on that deck but there was definitely an unbelievably quiet silence. It wasn't something that was disconcerting; it was more a purely peaceful silence. There was something unreal to its depth but it was almost if you could reach out, if you could really see it, it was this amazing setting with unparalleled beauty. It was pure magic. It was like a meadow decorated with the most appealing flowers in all of nature. There were sounds to the silence, not earthly sounds. The sounds were what you would want to listen to for eternity. What I was feeling is not something that could be even remotely explained in human words. I slowly shook my head, not much, just a little, looking down at the certificate, and then I looked at Bobby, and held my vision on him for a little longer than just a glance. He was smiling and I was captivated. My knees were rapidly losing any of the remaining strength they employed in keeping me upright. I looked at Jack. Jack had this look like he knew. He just knew. I guess he knew what I was thinking and feeling. I moved to Greg. Greg was just smiling the way he always did when he wanted to light up your life. I looked up and surveyed my wonderful family. I had to clear my throat a few times before I thought it would be possible to speak, "My dear friends," I

began, "I regret to tell you all that in no way shape or form will I be able to match the eloquence of either of the previous two speakers." Everybody broke up laughing. I guess there was a lot of nervousness out there on that deck right then. I glanced over at Greg. He was still smiling. It reminded me of seeing him when he was pointing out two people obviously newly and deeply in love. "It's hard for me to imagine what sort of words befit this occasion." I paused and looked down at the paper in my hand, again shaking my head a bit from side to side. I looked back up to the most amazing group of young men and women standing there in that holiday atmosphere all around that deck. I breathed a sigh of reluctant resignation and continued on, again looking down at the certificate in my hands, "there are some things that unquestioningly are far beyond my ability to grasp," I said, raising my eyes to again look at my family, "such as the abundance and grace of your love. I accept your generous gift. I accept it in the name of my family, in my name and in your name, and that is how the deed will be recorded. For generation after generation, our family, you and me and all those who come after us, will share in the love you've shown me here this night." I had to stop talking until the applause subsided. My voice was subdued, seemingly drained of all energy, as I continued. "If I should live to be the oldest man ever in the history of the human race," I said, speaking in a low voice, "I shall never have the capacity to touch you the way you've touched me. I'm going to visit this island that you've chosen, " I said, finally fully making up my mind. "As a matter of fact, I'll be there camping this New Years Eve. The gathering at the estate here will still be on, only you'll have the pleasure of Jack and his lovely wife as your hosts. I'll be off exploring this unblemished paradise in the tropics. Bobby, I genuinely thank you for all your kind words. I thank you for your offer to guide me on a tour of this new land." I was smiling as best I could at him as I spoke. I turned back to our audience. "You know, I've been in love twice in my life," my voice had, again, dropped in volume noticeably and I guess it probably

seemed as if I was speaking from some place far away. The hush on the deck right then was like every soul there was holding their breath, waiting for what was coming next. "I mean really in love. The first time didn't go so well and that's been eons ago. About five years ago, Jack brought a young man into my office and if I ever had any doubts about love at first sight," I was slightly shaking my head, sort of like one does in disbelief, "they disappeared right there in that instant. In the twinkling of an eye, there was something that connected between us and for five long wonderful years that link has grown to form a bond that is stronger than any substance ever known to the world of science." I glance down at the sheet of paper and back to my family, " I can't imagine beginning the journey of this New Year on this deserted island without the companionship of my most treasured love and so Greg, I hope you

haven't made any other plans." The tears were streaming down his face as I turned to smile at him. I really don't think I had ever seen him cry before, definitely not like that. I handed the folder with the certificate to Jack and moved to face Greg. I reached up with my fingers and softly wiped the tears from his cheeks. He was beaming through those tears. I was pretty sure he was about to burst wide open. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him close. Somewhere across the deck applause started again and continued and continued. I felt hands patting me on the back and my hands, locked behind him, felt the hands patting him on the back. We stood there for quite some time, locked in each others arms, feeling the rhythms of the other's heart and the warmth and comfort of our shared embrace. I raised my head back so I could see his face. I moved my arms so I could again caress his beautiful cheeks with my fingers. He was still beaming, and his sobbing was passing. I'd always thought Greg was one hell of a stud, but right there, in that moment, all I saw was this most amazingly divine pure little boy. I leaned in gently and softly touched his lips with mine. Moving again so I could see the light of his beautifully hypnotic eyes I simply whispered, "I've been in love with only you, Greg Morris, even before eternity ever began." Greg was swallowing hard and smiling even harder. The tears were drying up and he used the heels of his palms to wipe beneath his eyes. I think he was speechless. There were too many people crowding around us for me to imagine anyone had left the deck, not yet at least. It occurred to me that I really was in uncharted waters here. I'd just thrown my most cardinal rule to the bottom of the pool and it was anchored down there in such a way as I could never really expect its security to ever comfort me again. I guess I'd finally made the commitment, the kind that wasn't easy for me; well, okay, the kind that was pretty near impossible for me. In everything I'd ever done, I'd always had a clear line of sight to where I was going or trying to get to. I'd

always known in vivid detail what and where the goal was. In my conscious mind, I'd never imagined that some day this is where I'd end up with Greg. I' d always love him. I knew that, He knew that, Jack knew that, the whole damn world probably knew that. I glanced at the seemingly countless faces crowding in on this little moment of history. Jack was standing with his arm around Jennifer. Both were smiling with pride and affection as they looked at the display which had become Greg and me. I saw Bobby McLean standing just the other side of Jack and I did a double take. His expression reminded me of a poker player who had just laid down a royal flush to take the biggest pot of the night. He was smug. I put my arm around Greg and turned him to face Jack, his wife and Bobby. "I may be guessing here, but I think one or both or all three of you have something you'd like to confess," I said, looking mostly at Jack. Both Jack and Bobby clammed up, giving us overly dramatic shrugs as if they didn't have a clue in the world what I was talking about. Jennifer just smiled, almost a maternal smile of pride. She was a lovely lady, flowing brown hair, eyes to match, and even though she'd given birth to two beautiful boys, she still had the features and beauty of a magazine cover model. "Well, if they're not going to tell you, I will," she said, glancing at her husband and the brown haired boy with the wire frame glasses. "Bobby is Jack's nephew." She just let the words hang out there in the air. I looked at Greg; we were both frowning, the concentrating type of frowning, but the smiles still held much of their dominance in our expressions. As I looked into his eyes, it hit both of us right there like a 1500 watt bulb coming on in that dim gray area we call our brains. We both had been set up. Greg had been outflanked and in a way neither of us could have ever dreamed up on our own. "Boss," Jack was talking softly, "I told you if you ever gave us a chance you'd find out just how good we really are." I don't know where it came from, but there were nerve sensations flooding through my body. If it hadn't been seventy-three degrees out there on that deck right then, I'd have shivered noticeably. "David," said Jennifer, "I don't know what you thought happened back then, these five years ago, when you first met your partner in crime there, but Jack came home telling me I should start planning the wedding right away." Greg was smiling again. I was still a little confused. Jennifer continued, "Ever since that day, you've been the perfect gentleman. Actually, both of you have. Jack and I bet each other every time you two got together for a trip or some play time. This will be it, Jack says. They' ll have a break through this weekend, you just watch. Well, I've watched. Jack's watched. Half the company has watched. We've all waited and waited and waited. The suspense was killing us. This summer Jack and I decided we couldn't handle it anymore. So, my husband, who had opened the right doors for Bobby when he was preparing his MBA thesis decided to enlist his clever nephew in what he called his grand scheme." Both Greg and I looked over at Bobby. He wasn't reserved at all, not one bit. This kid was incredibly smug, full of himself even. Okay, maybe he was just confident, but he looked to have won some major challenge which he never thought was that big of a challenge in the first place. Piece of cake. I could just imagine him standing up from the poker table counting his money looking around for the next group of suckers he would entertain with his skills. "But David, you should know, Bobby really has been your biggest fan ever since he was fourteen years old. He and Jack would spend hours gabbing about some of your exploits on the trading floor, some of the races you guys have been in and a lot about the type of person you are. He really does want so badly to come to work with you guys, if you'll still let him. He hasn't dreamed of anything else since about the time he started high school." She paused and looked at Bobby, who was now, strangely enough, truly showing some redness in those cheeks of his. He was looking down at his feet, I guess, hoping no one would notice too much. Finally, as the silence wore on, he looked up again. His sight landed on me and his face melted into the most sincere captivating smile I'd seen from him yet. He definitely had magnetism and maybe just a bit of something else. I've seen magnetism, but maybe this kid was electromagnetic. Maybe that would explain our sparks from earlier. "David," Jennifer continued, "This night belongs to you and Greg. We all know it's been a long time coming, but before you go off to the land of enchantment I think you should know, our young Bobby here has worked his heart out to have an opportunity to someday be able to join your company." I looked at Jennifer as she finished speaking then glanced at Greg and back to Jack. Jack's look just emphasized the sincerity of Jennifer's little speech, maybe recommendation. I looked back at Greg. His smile had returned in full blossom but there was something else. It made me feel like I was on a game show and everyone was waiting for me to choose between door number one or door number two or door number three. I guess my night wasn't quite over yet. This wasn't about something silly like choosing between Greg and someone else. That part was done. Finished. That was forever. After five years of gentlemanly courtship you don't question something like that. Greg was sincerely expectant though, hopeful even, that I would do the right thing and there was no doubt somehow, someway, my friends, my family had once again this night placed the ball right back squarely in my court. I looked deeply into Greg's eyes, feeling myself flow further and further through the windows with which he viewed the world. I could feel, maybe sense, somewhere in there the rhythmic beating of his glowing heart. I could feel the warmth. He had a fire inside him, not anything that would ever be threatening, just a warm cozy fire that would always be beckoning me home, offering a kind of peace and comfort I'd never known existed and couldn't even begin to describe. It was nothing I'd ever heard about from any other living soul. I nodded my head to him, softly pecked his lips and turned to Bobby McLean. " Young man, what position would you like to fill in our organization?" I asked. "Sir, if it's available, I'd like to be your executive assistant." "Welcome aboard, Bobby," I said, extending my hand once again to the brown haired boy with the wire frame glasses. He reached for it, and as before, as the touch became imminent, faint flashes of blue light erupted between us creating a crackling sound that was clearly audible, evidenced by the gasps of those gathered closest around us. We both looked down at our clasp and then back into each other's eyes. His look was pure happiness. I felt no different than he. I felt a nudge on my shoulder; Jack was leaning over to me. "Merry Christmas, Boss." I smiled, still grasping the hand of the brown haired boy with the wire frame glasses. I smiled knowingly as his grin broke wide open. "Merry Christmas, Bobby McLean."

• • • * * * Chapter 2 "Okay guys, that's my story. Whose turn is it now?" I asked, laying my little booklet back on the teacher's desk, facing my classmates, as I finished reading my assignment and headed back to my desk. My pen name is Christopher Robin. Yeah, I've heard all the Winnie the Pooh wise cracks; enough with that already, huh? Just call me Chris. That part is my real name and that's what most of my friends call me. I'm 16 years old, well almost, three more months. I can tell you flat out that this whole writing assignment has been a trip. I mean, creative writing isn't really my bag. I know I'm supposed to have antagonists and protagonists and plots and tensions and all that. I just guess I'm not too much into confrontation or conflict, well, unless, of course, it's on the court or between the goal lines. I'm just your average everyday happy go lucky kid. What can I say? Sue me. I' m not really the ring leader in any social circle but I guess being the point guard on the court and quarterback on the field does force me into a sort of leadership role in this small community. Alright, I guess I can tell you a little bit more about me. I do like to surprise people. Call it my style or whatever. Some of my friends think I like to shock people around me. Well, whatever you want to call it is fine with me. I like to be different. So when we got this assignment to write a romantic short story for Mrs. England's creative writing class, I knew I was going to have to come up with something good. By good, I mean it had to be really, really out there. Nobody could have any idea what it would be about. Maggie, my girlfriend, told me about nifty. I don't really know any gay people in my school, not really, but when I first started poking around the nifty library, well, I guess it was all those love stories in the gay section that, well, you know, kind of helped give me my latest idea. I figured since my reputation had more or less just been stuck in place since the beginning of the year, maybe it could do with a boost. I mean, I seriously don't know any gay guys here, at least if I know them, well I don't know they're gay. Sure, I've had suspicions about one or two here and there, but my Gramps always told me you couldn't judge a book by its cover. I figured out what that means a long time ago. Before I forget and in case you're interested, Tyler Watson is up there reading his story right now. It's the same old crap everyone else has been writing about. Boy meets girl, another boy comes along, and they have to fight, then one or the other ends up with the girl. Bore-me-o and puke-me-at. B-O-R-I-N-G. I know my story was a hit, well, or something. At least I think it did the trick. Most of the class has been watching me off and on since I sat down. It's so cool. Mrs. England has even looked over here about a dozen times in the last ten minutes. I'm just ignoring everyone for the moment and by taking this time to write a little explanation to you; well, it gives me the perfect excuse to keep them all on edge, or something like that. Anyway, I was going to tell you something about myself. I live in a little town outside Kansas City, on the Missouri side. My Dad has a small farm which has been in the family forever. I guess working on the farm growing up is probably what made all the difference when I got interested in sports. The story I wrote about, I guess I did use myself as a kind of model. If you haven't figured it out yet, I would be Greg Morris. Well, not really. I mean, I'm not saying I'm gay or Bi or anything like that, but I do look like him and I am a farm boy from Missouri. My uncle is the rich guy in Fort Lauderdale. That's Dad's brother. He never took to the farm very well when he was a kid so he left pretty young and went off to seek his fortune elsewhere, as my Gramps used to tell it. I'm not saying anything bad here, but on that score, he got the better end of the deal. I mean, my Dad busts his nuts to keep our farm going year after year. I don't ever remember us having an easy year, not since I've been alive. Uncle Robert has tried to get Dad to let him invest in the farm, pay off the mortgage or anything to make it easier on Pops, but Dad won't hear of it. Pops ain't offended or anything like that. He says if he ever gets in trouble, he knows who he can call. Trust me on this; he's got that part dead right. Uncle Robert really is almost just like the David Little guy in my story but I don't think my uncle is gay or anything. I mean he was married a long time ago but his wife passed away before I was born. My Dad says it really tore him up. They weren't married that long before she died of cancer, kind of just out of the blue. They never had any of their own kids but every kid who graduates from my high school that wants to go to college and doesn't have any other means of financing it, my uncle is right there with a full blown scholarship. My Dad couldn't have any kids of his own either but he and mom did the next best thing. They adopted yours truly right out of the maternity ward, so they say. Yeah, if you can't guess by now, my uncle is pretty good at spoiling me. I get to spend a whole month every summer at his place down there in Florida and I'm telling you right now, when I graduate in two more years, that's where I'm calling home, and something else Gramps used to say, you can take that to the bank. All that trading stuff is for real too. Only the company isn't really named SandLot Investments. I made that part up. I didn't want to use real names, you know, just in case. Anyway, he's got that big yacht and all. The only thing he doesn't have is the racing boats. I've already started working on him for those. I figure he should cave before I get down there this summer. We did borrow one from a buddy of his when I was there last time. It was a blast. If you can even come close to imagining what its like to be flying over the water at speeds over 80 miles an hour you'll have some idea what I' m talking about. One other thing I probably should tell you. I think the average age of the people who work for him down there is about twenty-three. That's what I was told. I never did see anyone there even close to being the age of my uncle. He's really 43. Our birthdays are only a week apart. Aires, both of us. Anyway, all these people that are working for him, well, he really does sort of count them as family and from what I see when I'm down there, it's pretty much mutual, all across the board. Here's the part I never told anyone else about, ever. When I was twelve, well, I use to have these secret fantasies about my Uncle Robert. I can't tell you everything but I'm sure it was just a phase or something like that. I figure now, looking back, well it was probably pretty natural for a young boy to have a certain kind of thoughts about someone he looks up to so much. Anyway, I guess I've grown out of that. I mean, Maggie and I have been dating for over eight months now, since before school let out last summer. I mean I may not be totally in love or anything, but I'm not a virgin any more, and I can assure you that she ain't either. You're just going to have to take my word on that. Anyway, when I was going through the nifty library, the gay section, well, that's when I remembered what it was like, way back when I was a little kid. That was part of what gave me the inspiration for how to write my assignment.

I guess I'll have to wait till next week to see what kind of grade Mrs. England is going to give me. In the meantime, it's going to be a trip seeing what the other kids have to say about this one. One last thing. I told you my uncle pretty much spoils me. I don't want you to get the wrong idea or anything. I work hard to help my Dad on the farm. I work three hours every morning before I come to school and most evenings after practice I put in another three hours. It's hard to help out on game days but he wouldn't let me even if I wanted to, not on game days. He's my biggest fan. I'm lucky like that, I know. In three more months I get my driver's license. I've already got a car. Uncle Robert bought it for me two summers ago. It's down there parked in his garage right now. My Dad won't let me bring it up here. I'm working on him on that though. We'll see. It would be the only F430 Spider any of my friends have ever seen in real life. One more last thing. If I had the money or could get it, I'd personally buy my uncle that island in the Bahamas or a space shuttle or anything else he might like to have but would never "waste" any more money on himself buying. My Gramps always use to say Uncle Robert was the dreamer in the family. He was right on the money as far as that goes. My Dad agrees with him too. What's more, I can't begin to tell you how many times my Dad has called me a dreamer. I don't know if he means it as a compliment or what. All I can tell

you is that I get goose bumps every time he or anyone else tells me that. Tyler just finished his story but most of the class is still asleep. Anyhow, the bell is about to ring so I have to wrap this up now. Hopefully, I'll be able to figure out how to post this on nifty sometime soon. Later guys. And Uncle Robert, on the off-off-chance you ever end up reading this, I just want to say one thing. It's just an assignment for my creative writing class at school. I truly don't want you to be uncomfortable about it or anything like that. I mean, you ain't 54 years old and I ain't 26. That's a whole ten years away, but I probably should warn you, just in case, you know, cause for all you know, I could be working on you right now. Update: I don't know why I did this, but last night I decided to email a copy of my story and the note I wrote you guys to Uncle Robert. This morning I got this email response. Chris, I just wanted to say you should do very well on your paper. I'm sure your teacher will recognize that you most definitely have one creative imagination. Best Regards, Rob P.S. If you do happen across young Bobby McLean, please tell him for me there will be an open position with the company anytime he wants it. I immediately wrote him back: Hey Uncle Robert, First chance I get, I am going to kick your ass. Nuff said. Chris Update II: Okay, so far I still haven't figured out how to post this on nifty. Maybe I' m dense or maybe the instructions are confusing. I think I'm just going to email it to the administrator and see if that works. In the meantime, I did get another email from my uncle: Chris, I'm not sure what has prompted your sudden interest in my ass but I must warn you, you're going to need to fill up on a lot of that produce you guys grow up there if you ever expect to be "BIG" enough to take care of my ass. Best Regards, Rob P.S. Any word from Bobby McLean yet? My response: Hi again Uncle Robert, First things first. I am 5'8" tall already, but for the record that's not the only measurement I have that includes 8". Now, about your interest in the

fictional Bobby McLean. He ain't available, now or never. So get over that already, will you. I may be able to find someone else for you though. Uncle Robert, you've just got to trust me on this one, this guy would be " perfect" for you. He's just your type. All you need to sweep him off his feet is a couple 38' Lightnings and we'd be off to the races, as they say. Your only Love, Chris Update # I Lost Count: It's been a couple months and I never did send that email to nifty nor did I ever figure out the instructions for just posting the story myself. I guess

it'll all work out one of these days and since that might just happen, I've

decided to keep tagging on some of the emails my Uncle and I have been firing at each other. My Dear Chris, It's not that I don't trust your measuring device but if I'm reading your last email correctly, I'm going to have to call Bull-Shit on that. I want to make myself very clear on this topic and then we won't discuss it any further; put up or shut up. Nuff said. By the way, in case you're interested, Fountain Boats is delivering the Lightnings to the estate no later than April 1st. Seriously, I should have both well broken in before you hit spring break. Got any plans? Best Regards, Rob I did tell you guys that he spoils me. Working on him is about the easiest thing I've ever done in my life. Now don't get me wrong. I wouldn't want you to think I was trying to take advantage of him or anything, not in that way at least. It's just that he really does work too much; sometimes he's in the office for two days straight. I kid you not. He definitely doesn't need the money. He gives more of that away every year than you can imagine. If he stopped working right now, he could set up permanent retirement funds for just about every kid in my entire high school and still have plenty left over. The real thing is I want him to relax some. I don't want him to get old and burnt out before I get a chance to spend a lot, lot more time with him. He 's stays in great shape but I just worry that all the stress of his work will eventually wear him down. It really would break my heart if anything bad happened to him. I don't know what I would do, but I figure most of the fun would be gone out of my life for a very long time. I guess it'd kind of be like when his wife died, only I'd be the one that would really be tore up. Me and Uncle Robert, we're for keeps, for life. Anyway, we kept writing: Uncle Robert, Thanks for ordering the Lightnings. We are going to have so much fun. I can 't wait. I'm going to do whatever it takes to persuade Mom and Dad to let me come down spring break. So far my Dad has said if we win the state championship in our class this basketball season, he'll even pay for the round trip first class ticket. My school has never done that before, never even come close. I promise you this, I'll be playing for that ticket every night when I hit the court. Also, I just wanted to tell you, in case I haven't done it in a while, I love you more that you probably think I do, and this don't have anything at all to do with the Lightnings or anything else. It's just you I care about. I'm sorry to be mushy but I just had to tell you this. I don't really know why. I just need so bad to know that you'll take care of yourself for me. Your favorite Wimp, Chris P.S. So far in the season we are 13-0 and my Dad has started saving a little money on the side. I'm the only sophomore that I know of starting on a varsity in our district, plus so far I'm in the running for the state scoring title at 27.3 ppg.

• • • * * * To whoever may read this: I can't really write any more of this story, myself. It's definitely not working out the way I wanted it to, not even close. It hurts way to much to try to put the thoughts and feelings I have in any coherent order. Maggie is going to finish the story and try to get it posted on nifty so it'll always be out there. My sincerest apologies, Chris

SandLot Investment Company Part II by Maggie Wallace Chapter 3 The boy sat silently on the dimly lit sands as the waves from the harbor washed up on the shore and receded back to the sea. He sat with his knees pulled close to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs as his gaze lingered on the horizon far away at the edge of the waters. A seagull landed nearby and lifted off, having found a morsel lodged somewhere amidst the white sands. The boy's attention remain fixed on the distance well past the deepening shadows across the vast span of rolling waves. A gentle breeze wafting in from the ocean filled his nostrils with the dense salty air, slightly lifting his long blond hair as it passed through and on across the sands toward the tropical foliage lining the back edge of the beach. Overhead, stars were becoming faintly visible as they struggled for brilliance in the darkening twilight. The boy's golden brown tan bore evidence to the many hours and days he had spent basking in the summer's rays of this paradise in the Caribbean. An occasional tear, here and there, formed in his deep blue eyes, escaped and slowly crawled down his cheeks before dropping through the opening between his thighs to sink into the warm sands below. Still, his vision remained fixed on what only he could see, somewhere across the restless waters where the ever-approaching night increasingly engulfed the line at the end of the earth. On the other side of the island in another harbor, much like this one, the " Sea Stallion" was anchored. It had been there for several weeks, occasionally weighing anchor to make a supply run into nearby Freeport, but mostly just sitting there gently rocking on the waves. One day a week for each of the last eleven weeks, Captain Mueller would take one of the crew and ride the tender over to the island to officially check on its single resident and drop off more supplies. It had been a struggle these past few months, sometimes just to draw the next breath. Leaving his office in the wee hours of the morning, Robert Alexander's car had been blindsided by a drunken driver. The impact on the driver's side resulted in what the coroner said was instantaneous death. Robert never really knew what or who had hit him. For those left behind in the South Florida coastal paradise Rob had called home, it was still as though they were trying to recover from the storm of the ages. Even that though could not begin to compare to the devastation shared among the few thousand residents of a sleepy little farm town in far away Missouri. A man, standing in the shadows of a large palm, well back from the shore, studied the boy for a few seconds and then turned his gaze to follow that of the kid's, out across the surf toward some unseen tapestry well beyond human sight. Captain Mueller often slipped ashore near dusk most evenings just to locate the boy who had made this island his sanctuary for the past several weeks. Sometimes it could take two and even three hours to find the boy and he'd often find himself struggling to get through the jungle of plants and bunched up trees as he surveyed the three mile long island. It wasn't quite as wide, just a little over a mile and a half, but this type of terrain didn't make for easy hiking. There were peaks and valleys, a few nice size streams, fed from the runoff that collected at the higher peaks, but most times he'd start his evening quest right here on the beach of this harbor. He had learned early on that this was the boy's favorite spot and had been saved from the strenuous trek around the island more often than not. He had promised the kid's parents, on his life, he would do everything possible to ensure the child's safety and he filed a report, ship to shore, at least once every day, sometimes more often if the yacht was on the go. It was a promise he made easily and he would see it through, as long as was needed, even if that was for the rest of his life. Captain Adam Mueller had come to work for Robert almost six years ago and never in his young life up to that point had he had a home such as Rob had provided. He didn't need to captain a yacht any more to make a living. No one who worked for Rob Alexander needed to work for a living. Once you signed up, you and your family were taken care of for life. And what a family you now had. Several dozen families really, bonded more closely than anything most had ever before realized possible in such a crazy mixed up world. The boy appeared to swallow with some difficulty, swiping at his eyes as he continued to sit in silence, still seemingly fixated on some distant attraction far away across the rising and falling waves stretching to the edge of the waters at the end of the world. The only sound to be heard was the music of the sea as it rushed up on to the sands and slinked back to the watery depths. Night had dropped its dark curtain on any remaining twilight and starlight beamed from a countless number of pinholes in the canopy blanketing this part of world from overhead. Adam had spent hours lingering in the distance watching over the boy ever since bringing him ashore here those many weeks ago. Somewhere on this island, Rob was buried. No one besides the boy even knew the spot. He had somehow managed it all by himself. His parents had not objected. There had been a service in Florida but the body had been brought here to this island in the Bahamas, an island Rob had purchased on impulse after reading a school homework assignment from the nephew he had forever worshipped. Now the island and everything else that had once been Robert Alexander belong solely to that little boy sitting there alone on the sands crying in his hands, same as he'd been doing for who knows how long. Adam watched in silence, the boy, seemingly still mesmerized by some far off vision dancing just above the emerald green waters, churning their fury, out beyond the small harbor. The man was filled with a sense of helplessness for the only truth that could be accepted for the moment was there was no way to change the course of events that had snared the entire Alexander family to the fate of one Christopher Robert Alexander. Young Chris was the head of that family now and needed their support more than Rob had ever imagine asking for himself. There wasn't a single soul in the many who had come to be a part of Rob's life that would not in a heartbeat go to the ends of the earth for that little boy sitting out there in so much pain. It was the most incredible experience of heartbreak Adam could ever remember and it was shared by so many. Soon though, just a few more days and the real test would be upon them all. While everything still functioned in the world on the South Florida coast, Chris was due back in Missouri the first of next week. He would begin his junior year and everyone was praying that somehow it would be better for him than the year he had left behind. He had struggled with his grades those last two quarters, dropped off his basketball team and withdrawn himself from all his friends at school. Only his Dad still had any access at all to the young boy's heart. Chris stood up, brushed the sand from his board shorts and turned and looked squarely at Captain Alan Mueller. Alan froze on the spot, knowing it was against Chris' orders that he be here spying on the boy. The last thing he wanted to do was create any disturbance in the boy's solitude, much less have the boy upset with his intrusion. He waited and braced himself for the compassionate response he'd give as he watched young Chris stride across the sands to where he stood in his now discovered hiding place. "Hi Captain," Chris said softly as he reached the spot where the man still stood in the shadows. "I've been waiting for you." Alan stepped out of the shadows. "Let's go home," Chris added softly, as he gave a final look out over the still turbulent waters. "Yes sir," Alan almost whispered, unsure of exactly what to say. "I'll have someone come ashore to pick up your things, sir." "No need for that." Chris said in a voice that seemed as distant as the waves, several yards now behind them. "I have clothes on board. No, I say we get underway right away. I'd like to have breakfast with all the staff at the office in the morning and be on a flight home before lunch." "Yes sir. I'll see that everything is arranged," said Alan.

• • • * * * Chris was jostled awake as the tires of the Boeing 737 business jet made contact with the airport runway. He heard the reversing of the engines as the pilot slowed the craft for the short taxi ride to the executive hangar at the Kansas City International Airport. Chris went to his private bath, turned on the faucet and used the water to splash away the cobwebs of his nap. As the plane rolled to a stop, he left his cabin and made his way to the forward entrance hatch as the ground crew moved stairs into place. Jeremy, the onboard steward, opened the hatch and greeted the workmen. Standing near the bottom of the stairs were Chris' Mom and Dad and holding on to Mom was Maggie. Chris descended the stairs and walked into his weeping mother's arms. It rather quickly developed into a big family hug with Maggie joining in. "Welcome home, son," said John Alexander. "I guess you'll be wanting to stop at the barber shop on our way home, huh?" he added as a gentle, though somewhat nervous jibe to his son. "No, sir. I'd like to keep it like it is, at least for now. I'll have it trimmed a little but mostly I think I'm going to keep it long for a while." There was a limo waiting to take them back to the farm and as they all piled in, Chris gave his father a questioning look. "I can't argue with him now," he shrugged. "He did everything he wanted to do for me and didn't leave me any way to say no. This limo is just for the ride home though. His company, well, I guess it's your company now, anyway they opened a satellite office back in town, I guess so you'd have some place to work part time now that I don't need you on the farm any more. They insisted we use their, uh, your limousine to pick you up." "You don't need me on the farm anymore?" asked Chris, closing his door as the limo pulled away from the hangar. "No. I'm just a manager now. The farm's paid for and with a trust fund to boot. I have a full crew that takes care of all the work now and let me tell you this; we're doing better now that we ever did. I don't know why you insisted on just me and you trying to keep that thing going for so long just by ourselves." John was trying to lighten the mood. "Me?" "Well, anyway, things are a little different now. I have a lot more free time. I still do get in a full day, though. I just don't have to get up as early or stay out as late. I like this better. The office here, your office, I guess, anyway, they have two fellows and a young lady over there on Concord street. The manager, I guess that's what the head guy is, anyway, he and his wife have a kid that moved here with them. He's going to be a sophomore at your school this year. Bright kid, but maybe right now a bit like a fish out of water. I think you'll like him. They all moved up from Florida this summer." The rest of the ride back to the farm was filled with remarks about Chris' change in appearance and updates on the latest goings on here at home. Everyone, Dad, Mom and Maggie had news or stories of interest that they seemingly felt Chris would want to know about. Maggie marveled more than a few times about that "breathtaking tan" he had and a few more times about how "just gorgeous" his hair looked now. Nothing was ever said about the island and Chris figured that probably wasn't just a coincidence. When they finally did pull up to the little farm house, Maggie asked Chris if he had time for a quick walk. They walked down past the barn and on over to the little creek that ran through the middle of the property. Stopping on the bank, Maggie fidgeted a little, looking down at the water and stammered a little more as she broke the news. "Chris. You know I'd never do anything to knowingly hurt you?" she looked up into his eyes, pleading for understanding. "I met someone this summer. I didn't plan it. He didn't plan it. It just happened." "Maggie," Chris smiled at the apprehensive girl, "We were always mostly just best friends. I hope we still are as much as possible. I'm glad you found someone." "Seriously, Chris, you're alright with this?" "I'm very happy for you. Honestly, I love you Maggie, very much, but with us, it was always going to be, well, not magic, right?" "Yeah, I always felt safe with you and I always had fun with you until, well, you know, what happened last spring." "Until Uncle Robert was killed. You can say it now Maggie. Sure, it hurts like hell and in a way, I'm always going to miss him, but in another way, Uncle Robert is here right now. He's in me. I don't want you to think I'm crazy or anything; I'm not. No matter what I do for the rest of my life, he'll always be my closest companion." "It's spiritual, right?" "Yeah, something like that," said Chris, looking off into space. "I'm not talking just memories. It's more than that; I can't really explain it." Maggie thought Chris did seem to be, not alright, but at least, he seemed a little better than he had been when he left that last day of school. Then it had been near impossible to get two back to back words out of him. He had seemed totally lost. They walked, hand in hand, back to the farmhouse and there Maggie reached up and gave him a parting kiss before climbing into her Jeep and driving away. Chris climbed up the steps to the porch and went into the house. "Did you check the garage?" John asked as Chris came through the dining room to the kitchen where Sara Alexander was preparing some food. "No sir. Why?" "I had your car shipped up here last month." "Really? Cool. Thanks." said Chris, not overly enthused. That caught both John and Sara off guard, but John continued, "I mentioned your new guy up here from the office down there. His name is Matthew Simmons. His wife is Debbie and I think their kid's name is Trey. Anyway, they're coming to dinner tonight. We hope that's alright?" "Great. I'm looking forward to meeting them. I don't remember hearing their names before." "They should be here in about twenty minutes," Sara said. "Cool. I've got time to shower and change then. That's great," he paused before leaving the room, then looking intently into their faces, added, "Mom, Dad, I love you guys. I just wanted to thank you for loving me." "We do love you son, and that's not something you should ever have to thank us for," John said. "I'm not taking anything for granted ever again," Chris said, "and what I want you to know is that I appreciate what you mean to me, what you give to me and what you've sometimes endured for me," he paused, then added, "I'll be back down in a few minutes." John saw the tears welling up in Sara's eyes as they stood staring at each other as Chris slipped out of the room. To say they were touched would be an understatement. "Will he ever not be so sad?" Sara asked as she reached out and John took her in his arms, caressing her back, offering as much comfort as he knew how in that moment.
• • • * * * Chris stepped out of the shower into the steamy fog of his bathroom. He reached for a towel and began drying himself. Walking to the mirror at the vanity, he used the towel to wipe a section free of the condensation and looked at his reflection. No one in this town had ever seen a tan this dark. Half his friends probably weren't going to recognize him. His hair, reaching just below his shoulders, was, in addition to being way past record length for any guy in his school, also about two shades lighter than what they were use to. He opened the door and walked into his bedroom, still drying his long blond hair. When he had finished dressing, he stood in front of his window, gazing out over the wide open acreage that stretched almost a mile away before meeting a tree line in the distance. John stood outside the open bedroom door looking in at his son as the boy stood at the window on the far side of the room. "You okay, son?" John asked softly. "Sometimes," Chris said, barely loud enough to be heard, "I think if I look hard enough, I can see him floating right there in front of me," he was reaching out his hand toward the window, "almost close enough to touch. I've never felt this bad in my whole life. Even when Gramps died, I was sad, but this time, it's different. It's like the biggest part of me is missing, just ripped out from my insides. It hurts, Dad. I don't think it will ever stop hurting." "Chris, back before we had the internet, I got this letter from Rob," John said, offering some faded sheets of paper to his son. "He was trying to adjust to the loss of his wife and he wasn't having much success. I thought you might like to read it." Chris, came away from the window, took the papers and sat down on his bed and began reading. John took a seat beside him and placed his arm around the boy. Hi John, I appreciate the love and concern you and Sara have for me. Truly, I do. Yes, it has been a difficult few years. My business finally looks to be staying

afloat, but the thing you mentioned, about finding someone else, I don't think I've got it in me to go down that road again. Obviously, given the amount of time that has passed, I've given this a lot of thought, so I'm going to try to tell you exactly how things are. Maybe you'll understand. I just don't do people too well anymore, especially for any extended time. I 'm a real polite guy, almost always, with only the most rare exception and even then something has got to annoy me to no end before I drop my gentlemanly manners. No, the reason I don't do people too well, is I think none of them are near as perfect as some of them think and I sure as hell know I'm not with out my own abundance of quirks and faults. I ain't happy about it, not the crazy mixed up world I live in nor having to sometimes indulge, beyond my patience, the crazy mixed up world someone else lives in. Therefore, I'm most happy just being by myself, a loner. Oh, I can, and do, function quite well, even exceptionally well, in a professional environment or passing social situations. That's not what I'm talking about. The part I just as soon skip is the intimate personal relationships. I just disagree with so many people so damn much and don't want to hear or put up with their sometimes ignorant and other times stupid bullshit any more than I absolutely have to. I've just been fed up with it for quite some time. I figure, why bother? Of course I recognize that people who disagree with me are right in their own eyes so I ain't saying I'm any better than anyone else. Things are just the way they are. I ain't got nothing against nobody so long as they don't try to tell me what's what and I ain't itching to tell them unless of course they ask. And don't go getting all technical here either, cause if you tell me something that I know is wrong, it's the same as asking my opinion. Don't ask, don't tell and don't ever get some off-the-wall notion that I might be interested in anything you've got to say, cause the best I can do is humor you and only then if I ain't running on empty at the time. When you start talking to me, all you're doing in burning the reserve in my spare tank of patience and there just ain't that much in there to begin with. Not anymore. Now, everybody don't fit into this category with me, definitely not you, nor Sara, and especially not little Chris, but that's different from what we're talking about. There has only ever been one other person in my life that I could take for hours and hours on end and seemingly never tire of, but even that, eventually could on rare occasions have it's limits and I would need a short break. I like to be nice to people, generous as I can be, and sincere. That's me. I always try to be empathetic. I just don't want to be indulgent. I know I ain't going to change and there ain't no reason I'd want anyone else to change for me. I wouldn't trust them if they did. I don't think I'm selfish, at least not in most ways, but I can tell you, I don't much care for people who only think of themselves and their needing this or wanting that. I guess sometimes maybe I have to admit I could fall into a trap like that; so there's another damn fine reason for not bugging the hell out of someone else. That'd just make it doubly worse, them bugging me and me bugging them. Who the hell needs that shit? I know I don't. I said I did alright, better than alright, in professional situations and that's true. When I used to work professionally, and I never had to work all the time, but when I did, I'd get paid 4 or 5 times as much money as I needed, sometimes even twice that, and I'm talking after taxes too. Now, I just trade stocks and commodities in this new venture I'm calling the SandLot Investment Company. I'm making a little more money doing that, but I'm having my share of ups and downs. I think I give away sometimes maybe half the money I make. Not to just anybody mind you and I hate giving it to people who ask, though sometimes I have to, because when they're asking, they're in some kind of hard way and I can't normally say no. Usually, I like to give money away to people who are busting their butts trying to get somewhere and not asking for my help. Mostly, that's always been young people like college kids or newlyweds. They're usually the recipients of my most generous gifts. Yeah, sometimes I give chunks of money to something like a natural disaster or things like that but then those outfits managing the gifts usually end up pissing me off with their stupid games so next time I just pass. There was one person though, as you well know, that I would have given anything and everything I ever had or will ever have to, including myself, such as that is. I almost did too, well actually, other than the will ever have part, I guess I mostly did, come to think of it. I guess if I was being honest I' d have to say that was probably about the best time of my life, not that I'm

complaining about any of the other times, just that that particular time stood out as being something, well I liked it better cause if I could've, I'd have kept everything going that way for as long as I was alive. As it was, I guess it lasted mostly about five years and then, in a flash, out of the blue, that person was taken from me. I keep hoping that it was only a nightmare and that pretty soon I'm going to finally wake up, only I know what was, can never be again and after looking around, off and on, for about seven years after that, now, I just figure I'm probably better off just accepting that this is about as good as it's going to get from here to the end of the road, and if you really want to know the truth, well it really ain't that

bad. It's just that one time it used to be better. I thought about writing a story about that better time, but the truth is, even if I was a good enough writer to do it justice, well the whole story was too personal and too good for me to think anyone would believe a damn word I wrote. Besides the truth

is, I ain't got it in me to talk about stuff like that. It's private, was then, is now and I expect always will be. I don't see how it could be any other way. It was really and truly one in a million and I just don't think I've got it in me to go through another million looking for the next one. Nope, I don't really spend any time looking anymore, not for something I figure ain't likely to be found. I do keep my eyes open, well, cause you never know, and I never said I quit believing in miracles. Sorry for all the rambling, I guess I just needed to get it all out of my system. I'm sure I don't have it all figured out yet, but it did seem to help writing it all down. So, big brother, thanks for your concern. I love you and Sara with all my heart and little Chris is the best thing God ever did in all his creation, and brother, as Dad always said, you can take that to the bank. Regards, Rob Chris was crying as he finished reading the letter and sat staring down at the faded pages now catching his falling tears. "He was really alone, wasn't he?" Chris said, more in passing than asking a question. "Right after that," John said, caressing the boy's shoulder, "is when Sara and I decided you should start spending more time with Rob and so we convinced him to look after you for a month that summer. You were only five years old. He was scared to death at first, wondering if he'd know how to take care of you. We wouldn't take no for an answer and we already knew that he had been in love with you since the day we brought you home from the hospital. You changed his life Chris, these last several years. His business took off and you can see what it's become today. That probably never would have happened if you hadn't been there for him to love. You were his inspiration, his reason for living and eventually he opened up and shared that with so many other people. I can't begin to count how many lives he ended up touching. We've been swamped most of the summer with calls, emails, packages, you name it. At last count, there was over thirty different memorial funds that have been set up by someone or other that knew him. Rob was, himself, one in a million and he found in you what he was looking for all those long dark years." "Can I keep this?" Chris asked, still choking a bit on his emotions and holding up the pages of the letter. His tears were drying up but it was obvious to John that he hadn't got much further along than he was before he went off to the Caribbean for the summer. "I think he would have liked that," said John. "Listen, I'm sorry about this, but your mother agreed to let some of your friends come over tonight to welcome you home. They've all been pretty concerned. They're setting up a pot luck out in the front yard right now. It was suppose to be a secret but I just figured you might not want to be surprised. I'm going to go down and help out. If you can make it down in a few minutes, I think it would be good for them if they could see you." "Thanks Dad. I'll be down shortly," said Chris, standing to hug his father before the man left the room.

• • • * * * Chris stood on the porch looking out at the crowd of his friends and relatives, his classmates and their parents, the community leaders and a handful of newcomers he'd never met before. "I don't have the best words to explain what it's been like the past few months since my uncle was killed," he began, as the hush over audience was palpable. "A few days before the accident early last spring, I had written Uncle Robert asking him a couple questions. For those of you who knew my uncle, you know if you ever got him to talking, he could talk for hours. I'd just like to point out that he was also the best listener I ever met in my short life. Anyway, the reason I'm telling you this is I think the best thing I can say tonight would be simply to share with you the last email I got from my uncle before he was taken away from me. It's his answer to those two simple questions I had asked him about. I have to warn you, it's rather long." Dear Chris, Asking someone the meaning of a simple word like Love and is there one right answer is inviting a myriad of opinions. I decided to take some time and give you my best take on the subject. You may decide it does or doesn't have any merit. That's entirely up to you. I'll start by saying I don't think this is a question you're likely to find an easy answer for. There's a lot of misinformation floating around about this topic nowadays and I guess when you really get down to it, there's mostly always been a lot of dissemination on this issue. Most answers, and there's almost always more than just one or two answers to any question, this one or any number of others, but most answers you will hear are quite often born out of ignorance. Sometimes they come from something even worse than that. Do I think there's one right answer? You do ask the toughest of questions, you know? That's good. I'm not complaining or criticizing. When you decide you know everything and no longer want or need to ask questions, I guess that's when I'll be most apt to lose quite a bit of the tremendous amount of respect I have for you. Now mind you, I want to be very clear about this. I've spent the better part of my lifetime, so far, searching for the right answers to quite a number of questions and I am reasonably confident that I could spend many more lifetimes searching for some of those answers and, in the end, I am almost certain that I'd still have quite a few unanswered questions. Finding out the truth isn't really easy, not if you really want to know the truth. Most people don't want to know the truth. They are afraid of it. They want someone else to do all the work of justifying a perspective and then coming out and telling them, in the words of one writer, "what their itching ears want to hear." These people don't care about the truth one whit. They only care about themselves. They know or suspect that somehow they may be in the wrong about something, so they go looking for somebody that can make them feel better about whatever that is. They want somebody to lie to them. It's amazing, really, how easy it is to believe a lie when that's what a person is looking for in the first place. The greatest teacher that I know of, once said, the only way to discover the truth is to become like a little child. There is no other way. I thought about that, trying to figure out what he was saying, and the only thing I could come up with that would endure as an answer was that little kids have a lot to learn and they can really tax your patience with all the questions they' re always asking. So I guess I came to believe that he was saying you've got to recognize you ain't as smart as you think you are, and if you want to learn anything at all, I've found that seems to be the best starting point. Most, if not all, of what I know myself, I learned from that teacher and most of what I used to think I knew, I found out was really quite wrong. I have been taught by many teachers as I've grown over the years and it saddens me to say, that the vast majority of what I've been fed was, and is, well, there's no question in my mind today, it was mostly just a bunch of malarkey. That's putting it mildly, even if I do say so myself. There are some truths that are generally accepted by most people of reasonably sound minds and good intentions. The most common of these is what is known as the golden rule, "do unto others as you would have done unto yourself" . This one truth is the foundation upon which all the sacred scriptures are based. It's a fundamental principle. If you can live in harmony with the spirit of this one simple concept, you will be well on your way to living in truth. Sounding simple and being simple, I'm afraid, you may find are two entirely different things. As I said, you'll find that there's quite often a sizeable range of answers out there, floating around, to any number of the questions you may have or will likely have on your journey through this life. The teacher I most respect and admire once said that the path to the right answer is straight and the gate is narrow and only a few people will find that right answer, whereas, the way to the wrong answers is quite broad and the gateway is very wide and many folks will be heading in that direction. There's a very good reason many people don't want to know the right answer.

Ever hear someone say, "Ignorance is bliss"? Well, that's what many people come to think once they start realizing what the truth is all about. To seek the truth is a double edged sword; it can leave some pretty deep cuts. The truth is, indeed, a most precious treasure, but it can also leave you sick to your stomach. A few people can actually conform to the truth but many people will reject it because they, for one reason or another, would rather live the lie. Usually, living the lie, after being exposed to the truth, tends to take a lot of the life out of a person. Sometimes, they become bitter or, most sadly, in many cases, destructive toward others and yes, even themselves. I want to emphasize here that exposure to the truth is not reading something in a book or listening to some teacher of one sort or another. In order to be exposed to the truth, you have to imbibe a concept, turn it over and over in your mind, examine it from all different angles, see if it holds up when challenged. If it's not inside you, there's no way it can be the truth. It's a spiritual thing. Once you figure out that something is the truth, more likely a part of the truth, you'll find you have no more defenses against it. All the things which the many false teachers and the ignorant teachers have to offer, you'll contrast that to the truth and you'll find you will always reject what is false. You won't even have to work at it. It'll be as natural as breathing. You'll marvel to yourself at how such a person of high learning, one who presumes to teach others, could, in fact, be such an idiot. You'll also be quite sad, realizing that those teachers are the traffic cops on that broad highway leading to ignorance and destruction. Moreover, depending on what you choose to do with your knowledge of the truth, or that part of it you might then know, you could become a very depressed person or you might find that it lights up your life, or as my teacher once said, "it can set you free". It can be a very scary situation, this search for the truth, don't ever forget that, whatever else you do. I can almost certainly promise you this, in the words of today's popular culture, it will "rock your world" and though that should be in a positive way, one can never know. It all depends on where you're coming from and what your attitude is, as to how you will greet your newfound treasure. If you are trapped in some mindset, behavior or disposition that is contrary to what you find to be the truth, it's possibly going to be a very serious challenge for you to make the necessary adjustments. You may decide as many have before, and continue to do today, that it's your preference to hold on to what you now know to be a lie. I think I can safely say that you shouldn't expect to be very happy about that. As my teacher said, you're going to "love the one and hate the other"; there ain't no other way to size up what the turnout on that score is going to be. So I think we can move on from here, accepting the notion that once we discover the truth or portion thereof, we're likely to be unhappy campers unless and until we bring ourselves to a condition in which we are living in harmony with what we have learned. You may think, if something seems so right, how can it possibly be wrong? Then again, you might want to remember this line from classical rock music, " if loving you is wrong, I don't want to be right". You see, sometimes we make up our minds that this is the way it's going to be for us and damn the consequences. Now, on a side note, I could be wrong here, but I actually interpret those song lyrics more in the meaning of, "if lusting after you is wrong, I don't want to be right". The truth is, there is never anything wrong in loving someone; quite the contrary, we should love everyone. Having said that, I would add that we are only wise when we understand the difference between love and lust. Love is totally unselfish; lust is totally selfish. Love always seeks the best interests of someone else; lust seeks to indulge one's own passions and desires. There's a remarkably vast gulf which separates the two, though, many people either do not recognize this or if they do, deliberately choose to suppress this knowledge because, as alluded to earlier, it conflicts with their pursuit of personal pleasure and self-gratification. The truest expressions of love, it seems to me, after considerable reflection, are gifts given in secret or deeds done in total anonymity, with no expectation for personal reward or recognition whatsoever, save the private knowledge one has of having been of service to another. Furthermore, the greatest expression of love is when those secret gifts and anonymous deeds are provided to someone in need at considerable sacrifice to one's own self or well-being.

If you want to develop a heart filled with love, do these things and as my teacher said on another occasion, "you'll be storing up treasures for yourself in heaven". As you can likely, plainly see, this concept is dramatically different from the one which may rightly be interpreted as "my heart is filled with the desire to be with you and to share, among other things, the intimacy which will give us both a momentary pleasure that is, without a doubt, euphoric in the utmost degree." Well, Chris I know this has been a long explanation to what may seem like a very simple question but, alas, my experience is that things are seldom as simple as a lot of people would have you believe. Buddy, I miss you and I hope you're doing well. I'm really looking forward to your visit spring break.

One other thing, Chris, I don't want you to worry about me. I'm healthy, in great shape for an old man and what's more, thanks to you, I don't think I 've ever been happier in my whole life, ever. Best Regards, Rob Chris finished reading the letter and looked out on the lawn, slowly scanning the many attentive faces looking up at him. "I don't think I've done a very good job of loving anyone in my life," he said, looking back down at the papers in his hand, "maybe my parents just a little bit, not much. I know I never loved my Uncle Robert as much as I thought I did or wanted to." He raised his head again and looked toward the sky in the distance. " I don't think I ever knew how. I will confess that I wanted to be with him all the time. I wanted to have fun with him and I did, more fun than I ever had with anyone else since I've been alive." He lowered his eyes so that they were once again resting on his friends. "When I think I miss Uncle Robert, a lot of what I am saying is I miss all the fun we had and all the joy and pleasure he brought into my life. It makes me more sad than you can possibly imagine to realize that after all he gave and did for me, both with and without my knowledge, today, I have precious few treasures deposited in heaven as evidence that I loved my Uncle Robert." "Sure, I was always kind to him, and that counts a lot. I was always gentle, in that I don't think I was ever angry around him, and that too counts for something. There were some other things, like I know he was always very happy with my companionship, but honestly, I don't think he was anywhere near as happy as I was with his. He was my best friend, I guess, for all my life. I think I was patient with him, but then there wasn't much of a need to be patient with someone who is ten steps ahead of you trying to anticipate your every wish. I will say it again, I probably loved my Uncle Robert more than I ever loved any other person in all my life, and that wasn't near enough, not for me. I don't miss my Uncle Robert today so much as I just miss loving him and if I am being honest, I have to admit, I will always miss him loving me. " Chris carefully folded the email as he finished speaking, no longer looking at the long faces of those standing about in front of the porch. John crossed the deck to stand with his arm over his son's shoulder, "Sara and I are grateful for all of you who have come here this evening and for what I am sure will be the wonderful dishes many of you have brought. In just a minute, some of you guys from the football team are going to have an opportunity to challenge me for the spot at the head of the line, but before we go I just want to add a little something to what Chris has shared with us." "I have a lot of fond memories of my little brother. So do a lot of you. I was telling Chris earlier that Rob was, indeed, one in a million. Many of you know this is true. I think what he was trying to tell my son is that love is not something you do mostly with words. It's something tangible that comes from within you and is given to another person, without any thought as to how that gift will serve you or make you feel. I know that many of us have a lot of love for one another in that we care for the feelings, enjoy the company of and would jump to the aid of many of the others here tonight. I think what Chris said can best be summed up by saying, let us love while we live for there will come a time for each of us when the time for loving and living will have passed us by." "Again, my friends, Sara, Chris and I, genuinely thank you for your support of our family, for your love and for being here with us this evening and throughout these past few months. And now I'm looking for a couple blockers to help me get to the head of the line for some of that fine looking food."

• • • * * * The dinner was a pleasant affair, though there was little to no celebratory spirit on the lawn in front of the small farmhouse, not that night. As guests began to bid their goodnights, John brought a man and woman over to where Chris sat with some of his teammates from the football team. Chris got up and stepped away from the table to meet these new faces. "Chris, I just wanted introduce you to Matthew and Debbie Simmons. Matthew was Rob's attorney for securities law. He recently left his partnership in a law firm down there to take a full time position with your company. I'm told, he was hand picked quite some time ago by Rob himself to step in and be here for you if anything was to ever happen to him." "Mr. Simmons, Mrs. Simmons, it's nice to meet you both," said Chris, reaching to shake their hands. "Thank you Chris, it's Matt and Debbie," said Matt, taking the boy's hand. "I appreciate your politeness but I'm not that old; besides, we've both listened to Rob talk about you for many, many years. I feel like, at least on our side, we've always been very good friends." "Thank you, sir, Matt," said Chris. "Chris, I just want you to know that your affairs, those your uncle handed down to you are in very capable hands. There should be little need for you to be concerned with much of the business matters until you're ready. If anything does come up which requires your attention, we'll inform your father, and together, you can decide what you'd like for us to do on your behalf." "That's fine, sir, I mean, Matt. Thank you, and you too Debbie," said Chris. Debbie was looking around the remaining guests, "We have a son around here somewhere. He's been really looking forward to meeting you. He's heard so much about you from Rob; I thought he was right behind us. He's shy at first, but now he seems to have completely gone into hiding," she laughed, still unable to locate her son. They chatted some more while slowly working their way back up on the porch and as Debbie looked around, Chris turned to look as well. His eye caught the sight of a lone figure walking in the distance, moving from the creek up towards the barn, coming in the direction of the house. He froze and squinted to see past the shadows of the evening. "It can't be," he whispered to no one in particular. The harder he looked, the more convinced he became. He didn 't know how it was possible but that was uncle Robert. He leaped from the porch and ran toward his uncle. His body tingled from head to toe as he thrilled to the sudden realization that life was not at all over. It really had been a bad dream and somehow he had finally woken up. He was now sprinting as he came closer to his uncle, who had come to a stop there near the barn and seemed to be just waiting for his nephew to reach him. Chris braked hard, to a slow walk, as he realized it was only a another boy.

He shook his head to clear his mind of what had been clearly the most sensational mirage he'd ever experienced. The other boy was standing almost motionless as he watched Chris' approach. As Chris neared the spot just beside the barn where the boy stood, something clicked somewhere deep inside. Now he understood. He walked on up to the boy, stuck out his hand and said, "Hi, I' m Chris." "Hi," stammered the slightly smaller boy, slightly trembling as he took the offered hand, "My name is Trey. Trey Simmons." The boy seemed somewhat hesitant, maybe just a bit timid. Then again, he was new here. Maybe he was just unsure of the situation. He was the most lovely creature Chris could ever remember seeing. The boy smiled nervously and Chris felt a tingle along his spine as he watched the dimpled cheeks of the boy glow with a tint of scarlet. "I met your folks," said Chris, trying to think of something to say and struggling to keep from losing himself in those dark brown puppy dog eyes. "I was going to say hi earlier," Trey said sheepishly, "but you were kind of busy with your friends and all." "For you Trey, I'm never going to be busy," smiled Chris as he watched the younger boy physically shiver. "You want to go into town with me, maybe get some ice cream? I've got a car around here some place," Chris said, still fixated on the beautiful boy. "Yeah. I'd like that," breathed Trey, his smile captivating Chris, causing the bigger boy to take hold of the smaller boy's shoulder to steady his own balance. Chris shook his head again, not wanting this lovely angel to turn out to be another mirage. "Let's go tell our folks and I'll have to find my keys," he said, feeling elated and unable to controlled his growing smile. He put his arm around Trey as they walked back towards the farm house. "Trey, " he said, matter-of-factly, still smiling broadly, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." John Alexander stood on the porch, having watched carefully as the entire scene unfolded. Somewhere inside himself, he felt a huge burden abruptly disappear as he watched his son, smiling and laughing for the first time in so many months, coming toward him, chatting excitedly with his arm draped over the shoulders of the brown haired boy in the wire frame glasses.