This photo is of Billy. Back in 1950s Ohio he often wandered around our neighborhood dressed in his mother’s castoff dresses and high heels. You can imagine what the other boys did about that, but their jeers never stopped Billy.
The flag and hat were merely props like the fake pistols and stick horses we made out of sassafras and rode everywhere pretending they were real. Soft-spoken Billy loved animals and never hurt anyone or any thing as far as I knew.
Years later after finishing college I learned he lost and eye while fighting in Viet Nam. After service he ended up in prison and was murdered there. I have no idea of the circumstances, but can imagine.
I will dedicate my novel, Unspoken, to him. As a boy I knew him fairly well, and am pretty darn sure he didn’t deserve what happened to him.
Billy was one more case of the inequality that has occurred in our country over the years. One more George Floyd, though Billy was white. We must continue to join together to put an end to injustice. All of us of every shade and color.