Date: Mon, 30 Jan 2006 19:03:05 EST
From: PointGuardMo@aol.com
Subject: The 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.

*  *  *     *  *  *