THE WALL OF FACES

Tommy and I were early childhood best friends. He was like the brother I never had. He made sure the older boys did not pick on me. He loved to swing on a rope tied to the “hanging tree” overlooking a large creek in an overgrown neighborhood area we called “the jungle”. Just as the rope reached its peak swing, he would let go and fall into the rocky bottom creek, laughing all the way. I don’t know why he didn’t break every bone in his body. One summer’s day while running through the jungle, we cut our hands on the brier bushes. So, we did the only logical thing two young boys could do. We pressed our bloody wounds together, shook hands and became “blood brothers”. Just like in the TV westerns. One evening, Tommy his father and I were walking in a field behind their house. A big snake struck at his father’s leg. It scared the dickens out of me, but not Tommy. His family soon moved out of the neighborhood. We lost touch until we played together in high school band. Tommy played trumpet. He still loved to laugh. Every time I visit the old neighborhood, I fondly remember my friend. Tommy, more people miss you than you know.

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I wanted to honor the memory of a fallen soldier and fellow small town North Carolina veteran who shares the same last name as myself this veterans day 2007! THANK YOU!!

James, Although we never met, I just want you to know you are not fogotten. You gave the ultimate sacrifice, your life for what you believed in. Sleep well and thank you.