“It seemed that mere children were in love with each other nowadays.”
L.M. Montgomery

In the summer of 1971, I was nine-years-old and inasmuch as it was possible with being a girl, I was all boy. Growing up as I did the only girl among three younger brothers, I had learned early on how to be tough and to give as good as I got. I was brave, bold, and very imaginative in my play, and was forever rebelling against my mother's quixotic attempts to make me behave like a lady. At nine years old, I just wasn't interested in fru fru. I called very few girls my friends but there were several boys that I considered my best pals. The closest were ten-year-old Jimmy Baggett and his younger brother, Johnny. We three were nearly inseparable. Where you found one you would most likely find the others.

Summer had arrived hot and humid on the tiny military base in southeast Virginia where our fathers were stationed. Enlisted housing consisted of townhouses with small, well maintained yards. Many had colorful flower beds alongside the foundations and sidewalks, some glistening with water droplets from sprinklers at the ends of hoses. In the streets and along the sidewalks kids rode their bikes or roller skated, while others enjoyed the playground beyond the back yards.

One day the Three Musketeers, as we called ourselves, emerged from the woods we weren't supposed to have gone into, animated and suitably impressed with finding the spot where a local farmer would haul off the carcasses of his dead cows. We had long heard the rumors that such a place existed but it had taken many secret forays before we actually found it. To our immense disappointment no cow seemed to have died recently, but, still, all those bones lying around was pretty cool.

I strode confidently between the exuberant, often rash, Johnny, and the quieter, more reserved Jimmy, singing the chorus of “Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog” in between commenting about our experience. Soon we were planning our next expedition to find a forgotten Civil War cemetery, also somewhere in the woods behind us. We weren't exactly certain what the Civil War had been all about but we’d heard enough to know there had been much heroism and bloodshed.

I was glad that the school year had ended for the summer. In the past couple of months things had gotten kind of weird with Jimmy and Johnny. It started exasperatingly with their suddenly arguing over who would carry my books from the bus to my house, a matter I settled in a practical manner by dividing the books up between them. Then there had been that new girl move in down the street. The prissy one who wore the sissy shorts and blouses that tied up around her waist. I couldn't see what value she had as she obviously couldn't handle a curtain rod sword or field a ball, but all the boys were suddenly interested whenever she happened to saunter by. Then came the painful field trip to Colonial Williamsburg where Jimmy and Johnny suddenly weren't interested in sharing space with me on the bus, preferring to sit with a group of other boys that excluded me. I had been relegated to sitting with the girls, with whom I had nothing in common. My feelings were unaccountably hurt and the excitement over the trip quickly died. It took me a week to get over it.

But now at last it was summer. School was out and things were back to normal. We were The Three Musketeers again and there were adventures to be had. Adventures made all the more exciting because they meant going places and doing things that would have upset our parents to no end.

When we reached the boys' house we all went inside for some grape kool-aid. It was cool inside after the heat of outside and it felt pretty good as the sweat dried from our grimy faces and bodies. As we sat at the table talking about an upcoming cub scout trip that I could go on because my parents were the den leaders, the boys' mother suddenly appeared. She scolded Johnny for being so late coming inside, reminding him that he had a dentist appointment within just a couple of hours, and ordered him upstairs to bathe and get ready. A neighbor would keep an eye on Jimmy while she gone, which made him and me grin at each other in relieved glee. Better Johnny go to the dentist than us. Very soon afterward, we escaped back outside, collected our bicycles, and took off for the minnow pond on the outskirts of the base. It was someplace else we weren't supposed to go, of course.

The afternoon passed. After time spent catching and releasing minnows with our bare hands we rode our bikes back toward housing, meandering this way and that as our attention was caught by different things. I noticed that the Bookmobile was parked at the end of the street but I knew I wouldn't be able to go until my dad, who was the one who always took me, woke up from having worked the night shift. We cheered when the Coca Cola truck pulled in so that people could buy whole cases of drinks right off the truck. And we wished we had money to buy candy bars from the vending machine outside of the base exchange, more commonly called the PX, near the community pool.

Eventually we found ourselves at the deserted flag football field and climbed to the top of the bleachers. There we remembered the events of the day and talked about what we would do the next. I didn't notice that Jimmy was growing quieter until I realized I was the one doing all the talking. Looking at him I was surprised to find he wouldn't look back and I stopped talking, not exactly sure what was going on. We sat in silence for a few minutes and I was just about to demand an explanation when he suddenly turned to me with a scared expression. Startled I waited and watched as he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. I was beginning to get really worried now.

After a few moments, his voice gone high with anxiety, he blurted, “I love you!”

I was horrified! After one gaping moment I fled down the bleachers and didn't stop until I reached home. How I managed to do so without breaking my neck I’ll never know. My last glimpse of Jimmy's young face had betrayed his anguish.

Many years later, I have often recalled that experience with regret and confusion. I have questioned what had caused me to over react in such a way when my nature would have normally been to punch him on the arm and make some kind of scoffing comment. But there were things going on that would steal my childhood innocence and profoundly damage my relationships with the opposite sex. I now know sorrow for the way I hurt a young boy who had bravely and ardently declared his feelings for me. And even today I struggle with anger at the sheer injustice of it all.

My dad was transferred later that summer. I don’t know whatever happened to Jimmy and Johnny but I remember the many adventures we’d had as the Three Musketeers. In time I grew pretty philosophical about it. While back then I felt more in tune with the all boy and rowdy Johnny, today I would have been drawn to the quiet and sensitive Jimmy. I wonder where our relationships would have gone had we grown up together. All things considered however, for one small reason I’m relieved I never married either of them. For if I had I’d have had to go through life as Becky Baggett.

Sometimes things just work out for the best.

For Jimmy and Johnny, wherever you are.

c. 2026