I first met Pinky Anderson in the second grade. We sat next to one another in Mrs. Lewinsky’s class. I knew at seven years old that Pinky was destined for a challenging life. He just had that air about him.
Even though we grew up in the same small town, and lived across the street from one another for several years, we were never really close. Pinky was…well, Pinky. Growing up, he was the kid that no one liked, but didn’t know why they didn’t like him. He was always chosen last to be on any team sport, and then left on the bench where he couldn’t do any damage. The other kids didn’t tease him as you might have thought they would. They just ignored him. Continue reading