Body Keeney: A Short Story
The years passed by, with my sister watching over me. In conclusion, I will add that during the entire time my sister Jackie (surrogate mother) was watching over me, I never questioned her authority over me. And on a brighter note, how many little boys have their mom in their bedroom all night, keeping the cookie monsters at bay. I without a doubt was the one and only kid in the nation to have learned the arts of embroidery, and crochet. Jackie became an expert at playing cowboys and Indians, shooting marbles, and flying kites. When Jackie was young, she could not pronounce the word brother. Hence, when questioned who I was, she would answer I was her little body, rather than a baby brother. So, as a result from that time on, until I was fourteen years of age, all of my family, friends, and my school teachers called me Body, and still do, until this day. I still have my eighth-grade report card; the name Body Keeney appears on the front. Not knowing I had a middle name until I was fourteen years of age. However, I recall out-of-town relatives calling me by the name Charles, on the rare occasion when they would visit. It was odd they appeared not to know my name, "Who is Charles anyhow." I will cover that later as we continue down the path of my life story. As my sister and I grew
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Since we had nothing more suitable to do, we decided to go. Just as all of us were about to leave, another close friend stopped by my house and wanted to know. If we would care to go to the Broadmoor Hotel in Colorado Springs, a city north of Pueblo, to go swimming. We choose that as a more desirable alternative than a picnic. We got back home from the Broadmoor swim outing around 3:00 p.m. on that Sunday afternoon. When we turned on my street, I observed many cars parked on both sides of the road, curious, because I was not aware of any events at my house that
Since we had nothing more suitable to do, we decided to go. Just as all of us were about to leave, another close friend stopped by my house and wanted to know. If we would care to go to the Broadmoor Hotel in Colorado Springs, a city north of Pueblo, to go swimming. We choose that as a more desirable alternative than a picnic. We got back home from the Broadmoor swim outing around 3:00 p.m. on that Sunday afternoon. When we turned on my street, I observed many cars parked on both sides of the road, curious, because I was not aware of any events at my house that