"What is your take on all this?" Carl asks.
"That was a difficult time. For all of us. I was aware of what was being said but I didn't agree with any of it. I might have been just fifteen back then, but I already had a mind of my own, and no one was going to do my thinking for me. Plus, I liked Kenny, enormously. Actually, I loved him, and I wasn't about to be persuaded by any of the clergy or others at church, regardless of their position or influence. And Dad was also completely with Kenny. But it still was difficult at times', and it even got ugly for a while. Especially when the same priest, Reverend Roberts, the rector, took me aside the next Sunday, and tried to have a little talk with me. It didn't go very well. He hemmed and hawed a lot, and didn't seem to be able to get to the point.
"What was he saying?" Carl says.
"He wanted to know if I would like someone, other than Dad, to talk to. An older man who could be around to do things with, like, go on hikes, or to sports events, or bowling or whatever. So, I told him thanks but no thanks, because I already had Kenny and Dad, and didn't see why I would need anyone else to do things with. Then he asked me about Kenny, just how things are getting along, as he said. So I replied that Kenny is my best friend, then I asked if I could leave, because I was really starting to lose my patience. Now, looking back, I don't really blame him. He was pretty old, English, old school, and really quite dense and obtuse and impossible to reach. Like almost all Anglican priests of his generation..."
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