One day I took him up to the barn loft and showed him his casket, telling him how we believed he would die.
I'm going to teach you how to walk.
But mama, the doctor, and everyone else said I can't walk.
When Doodle was five years old, I was embarrassed at having a brother of that age that can't walk, so I set out to teach him.
Doodle! Please wake up!
"Doodle! Doodle!" I cried, shaking him, but there was no answer but the ropy rain. He lay very awkwardly, with his head thrown far back, making his vermilion 28 neck appear unusually long and slim. His little legs, bent sharply at the knees, had never before seemed so fragile, so thin.