In my entire life, I only had one serious enemy. My foe, Johnny Cain, had enormous blue eyes and sandy hair. Each afternoon, while walking from school to my Grandmother Glover’s house, Johnny pretended to run me down with his little blue bicycle. In an effort to maintain some shred of dignity, I showed no fear. I stared straight ahead, kept walking at a steady pace, and refused to look at my cruel tormentor. The more I pretended bravery the more this game appealed to eight-year old Johnny.
You probably can’t imagine the horror I felt when Daddy announced that he and I would be going to a fish fry with Catherine Cain and her son, Johnny. “You can’t be serious! Johnny is the meanest person in the whole world,” I responded in a panic. Seventy years later, I know this world can be cruel. At eight, I thought surely Daddy would listen to reason. However, the following Saturday, I found myself scrunched against a back seat door staring out the window. Johnny stared with equal determination out the opposite side of the car. We refused to speak to one another.