When I look back on the events of my childhood and all of my various experiences, I find that I have a few that are a little bit strange. Joey the Crow is one of them.
It's not all clear. More like snapshots, but one thing is clear: Joey like to dive bomb. I don't think he lived on our block for long, and I remember hearing that he was let go in the wild somewhere in Big Bear mountains.
There are two specific memories. One is of me riding my bike down the street, and Joey landing on my back. The boys on the block, who had a football game going in the middle of the street, all fell on the ground laughing.
The second is of Lewis. Lewis was the guy who lived across the street. My brother and I were out in the front yard in our Sunday clothes, and Joey started diving. Lewis came outside, laughing hysterically and pointing. He shouldn't have. It took Joey's attention away from us! Joey started on Lewis until Lewis literally crawled back into the house. It was absolutely perfect timing.
I haven't thought about Joey the Crow in awhile, but the memories that are coming back kept me smiling all day. I love how memories work like that.
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