Growing up on a farm was an interesting way to grow up, and being an only child offered many opportunities; some good, some bad. My best friend lived just down the road, and had an older brother. Only problem was, he was almost sixteen years older. So, for all intents and purposes, he was an only child too.

We finally found a solution to our problem. We watched a movie where one of our favorite heroes became blood brothers with his Indian friend. As we watched, we learned just what to do. My friend pulled out his scout knife and held it out to me. Bravely, I said, “You first.” The next thing I knew, he was bleeding. I thought we should have our own knives, just like in the movie, so I went to the kitchen drawer and got one of Dad’s knives out.

Dad was a meat cutter, and didn’t know the meaning of a dull knife. I was an idiot, and didn’t know the meaning of a sharp knife. Well, to sum it all up, it’s almost fifty years later, and I still have the scar from it. We never did tell our folks the truth. I said I’d reached into the sink and got cut. Better to let them have a guilty conscience than take the butt kickin’ I knew was coming.

All in all, it was worth it. I had something I’d always wanted. I had a brother. As the years passed, we grew up, went to school, and stayed close. After school, we decided to look into the Military. Three of us took the entrance exam. As it turned out, we both passed, but he changed his mind to enlist. Our third friend was more or less informed that the Navy was looking for someone to act as an Anchor. I guess it was one way of telling him he didn’t pass.

Going into the Military seemed to put a little distance between us. We were still good friends, but the world was just a little bigger between us now. Coming home on leave, we pretty well picked up where we left off, but there seemed to be something on his mind. When I pressed him on it, he told me that he was being drafted. He’d been wishing we’d gone in together, but things would work out.

After a couple weeks at home, I was getting ready to go back. He saw me to the bus station, and reached into his pocket and handed me a Five Dollar bill. I tried pushing it back, but he explained that he just wanted me to hang on to it for him. That way, if he ever needed it, I could give it back, and he’d never be broke. Well, it sounded good, so I put it in a hidden pocket in my wallet for safe keeping.

We both ended up going to Nam, and both made it home safe. We talked about it some, trying to make sense of some of the memories. Finally, I think we just decided to live with it all.

Several years passed, and we got in touch less and less. The job situation finally forced my family and me to head to Texas. Money was being made there, but not much anywhere else it seemed.

He never did ask for that five dollars. And many times, it came in handy. I’d borrow it from time to time, and always put it back. I’d always write his name on it, just to remember. One time I remember very well, was being broke, and needing to buy a gallon of milk from the store. I told my wife that I’d borrow a “five” and put it back on payday. She knew where the loan was coming from, and just smiled.

It was just a month or so later that we got the news. My Brother had been killed in a car wreck. If it had been a head on collision, a blown tire, or something of that nature, I think I could have handled it. But, he simply went to sleep at the wheel, and hit a tree. I was mad at him for such a long time. I thought, such a dumb way to die.

I was out doing some yard work on a hot Texas Summer day. The 7-11 was just around the corner, so I walked to it and got a big ice-filled drink. Standing in line to pay for it, I realized I hadn’t brought any money with me. Reaching for my wallet, I brought out the five. I smiled and paid for the drink, thinking to myself that he was still there, pulling me out of another jam.

The way everything worked out might not be the way he pictured it, but over the years, that simple act of friendship and compassion left me with a sense of independence and pride, of being more than the World could throw at me. Because I had someone that thought I was special.

There’s still a five dollar bill tucked away in my wallet, and a name written across one corner. It’s my way of saying my friend was special too.

Bob Shaw copyright 2003 Caperabbit@SEMO.net

Bob and Ronni Shaw are currently living in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. Bob is a Route Sales Driver for the Lewis Baking Company, Bunny Bread. Every once in a while, a customer will find him pulled off to the side of the road making notes. “Gotta get ’em down before they go away”. Bob has been a seeker of words for about two and a half years now. See Bob’s profile on our HeartWriters’ page: www.2theheart.com/HeartWriters