My first love was in 4th grade. His name was Joey, and I used to throw rocks at him to get his attention. He was from the nicer side of the tracks than me (we grew up in Latonia, Kentucky, which is now Covington). Joey was blue-eyed and had the house and the nice family. But in 5th grade, I moved away. Fast forward to high school, when Joey was the basketball star. I had just moved back to Latonia and we got back together. I threw a rock at him and he said, “I know you!” So in high school, we were going out for a little bit–and then I moved away again, from ’76-’89! When I returned, I “ran into him.” Actually, what happened is that I called a friend of mine and asked her how to track this guy down. Fortunately, he was separated. We got back together . . . and then he went back to his wife. Then I left again. I was always leaving . . .
After our conversation, Kathy and I trolled Joey on Facebook for a little bit. There were many guys with his first and last name, as can be imagined. Some of Kathy’s comments included “No way he’d make the Navy” (after finding a Joey who’s in the Navy) and “There’s no way he’d be a pastor.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that.