My newest friend is a man named Roscoe Coltrane.  He is 40 years old.

I met him at the park the other day.  He was sitting on the swings, gently swinging himself, and singing to himself.  He was singing some song about Jesus.

It was obvious that the man wasn't like most grownups.  He was more like a little boy ... more like my little brother, Kyle, who is six years old.  Meanwhile, Roscoe was 40.

He seemed nice, though.  He let me swing beside him when I went to play on the swings.  He kept smiling at me, and he seemed friendly enough.

He then told me his name and what he liked to do.  He said that he loved to color in coloring books and draw.  He also liked to play with his big, red ball and that he loved fried "chinny" for lunch (I think he meant fried chicken).  He said he lived with some friends at the group home, but they came to the park today for a few hours.

I didn't think too much about Roscoe until I went back to the park yesterday.  He was there.  As usual, he was on the swings, singing the same Jesus-song he was singing when I'd first seen him.  He was wearing the same stained light blue shirt and muddy jeans, as well as a pair of well-worn sneakers.  I noticed he wore braces on his legs.  His hair was sandy-colored and very messy, and his eyes slanted funny.

I guess Roscoe had Down syndrome.  He looked just like a cousin of mine that had died last year.  Looking at him made me sad because it made me think of my cousin.  His name was Toby; he died after he had a spell with his heart, and the doctors couldn't save him.  I missed Toby, but seeing Roscoe swinging happily on the swings made me miss him all the more.

Some of my friends saw me on the swings.  A few of them demanded why I was hanging around with that retard (their words, not mine).  I told them that I'd wanted to swing on the swings, and he happened to be there; he seemed nice enough, but it was a little strange seeing a grown man acting more like a child.  I told them that he was okay; he'd let me swing with him, so I did.  That way, I could keep an eye on Kyle, who was puttering around in the sandbox, which was just across the way; I could have a good view of him as he played.

My one friend Megin told me that I'd be better off to stay away from the strange man.  I told her that she needed to mind her own business; she was always telling me who I could pal around with.  I told her to get a life; people like Roscoe needed to have friends and be treated fairly.

Another (so-called) friend (Fawnetta) told me that if I hung around strange retarded guys like Roscoe, I'd end up like him.  I told her that was one of the stupidest things I had ever heard of.  (Needless to say, Fawnetta and Megin are no longer friends.  I broke ties with them yesterday after they told me those stupid comments.)

Anyway, Roscoe seems nice, and I don't think that is fair that he doesn't have any friends other than me.  He can't help how he is, and some people need to show kindness to people who are handicapped.  It doesn't matter how they are handicapped, but they are people too, with dreams, feelings, and such, and they need to be treated fairly.  Who knows?  People like Roscoe Coltrane might be the best friends you might have ever hooked up with!  They just might surprise you!

I look forward to getting to know Roscoe Coltrane better.  I am sure he would like my brother and would like for me to play with him or at least spend some time with him.  He seems pretty lonely, although you wouldn't know that 'cause he always seems to be smiling or laughing.

To be continued.