It was early 1919; the echo of "war" had finally hushed in America's home life. Rafe McCawley sat at his kitchen table, the birthday cake dimly shining with three candles atop it. He was now old enough to understand the yearly tradition of blowing out candles and no longer needed his father's assistance.

"Happy birthday son," Rafe's father said rubbing his little toddler's belly.

Rafe giggled as his big brown eyes gleamed in excitement for the gift his father took out of the closet. It was neatly wrapped and in a semi large box. "What's this daddy?" Rafe said in a soft high pitch voice, he chopped up each word and pronounced them with a strong southern tongue.

"Here," his father said handing him the package. "Why don't you open it?"

In the excitement most three year old boys have in opening gifts he tore open the box to find a small model plane just like the crop duster his father flew.

Jake McCawley swung his young son into his arms as he giggled at the feeling of flying. "Thank you daddy!" He said as he whirled the plane around his head.

"Vroom!" Rafe giggled out imitating the sound of a plane in flight, "look daddy! I'm a pilot just like you!"

"You sure are Rafe," he said patting him on the back.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Daddy! I ain't gonna know no one!" was the line of the year in 1923. Daniel Walker pouted in the back corner of his father's old pickup truck; he was young, five, and the size of a seven-year-old. His heart and mind was poetry. No body understood Daniel; he was an outsider to the other kids because of his advanced mind and thoughts.

"Shut up boy! We gonna live on this farm and you gonna like it!" Cole Walker said as he shoved him out of the back of the truck.

Daniel looked around the outside of his new house. It was simple, old, and nothing like his old house in Arkansas. He looked across a long almost endless field of corn, at then end of the seem less emptiness of Tennessee, he saw a few buildings, then he saw it.

Out of the setting sun flew a great flying machine. Its body was shiny and red as it flew over the cornfields. It moved around swiftly and gracefully.

Daniel's jaw dropped as he watched the mighty beast roar through the sky and over his head as it did a sharp turn back over the crop. Daniel's eyes glazed over in the amazement of the newest sight.

He knew it was an airplane, he had seen them in books his grandma would show him before she had died. Danny was alone, it seemed. He was an only child and his mother had tied that past year. His father was a broken down wreck. Daniel had never seen his father before he went "crazy" and there were times Cole would beat him because of a hallucination of a German.

Through all of these things Daniel still loved him. Cole was his only friend and was always there for him.

Daniel followed the plane through the cornfield, his father was unpacking so he was free to wonder.

He brushed his long string brown hair form his face as he squinted his eyes to find his way through the buggy cornfield. His eyes were full and brown, able to tell a thousand stories. His smile was slight but sweet. He was tall and skinny which made him great for adventures.

As Daniel Walker reached the end of the cornfield clearing the plane had landed and the pilot and his seven-year-old son were getting out.

"Who are you?" the young boy asked Daniel.

"I'm Daniel, Daniel Walker. I'm your new neighbor," he responded, he was stiff and nervous and trying not to do anything stupid or sound like a baby.

"I'm Rafe," he smiled at Daniel and Daniel quickly smiled back, "Rafe McCawley, can I call ya Danny?" That was Rafe for you, he always got to the point without being nervous or conscientious. He always did what was on his mind without thinking. You could say he was the opposite of Danny.

"Danny?" Daniel said softly. He wasn't usually addressed by any name. It was usually "Boy" from his dad and "Mr. Walker" from his teachers. The best was "Daniel" which his mother would call him. It made his feel good and excited, his very first nickname, "Danny". "Sure," Danny said. He would now be known as Danny, Danny Walker.

"Danny," he heard Rafe's father yell out, "you can come over anytime, don't you be shy."

"Thank you Mr. McCawley," he said shyly.

"Where you been boy!" Danny could hear his father call through the path he had made through the cornfield.

"I was just meetin' the neighbors daddy."
"Shut up boy!" Cole Walker grabbed Danny by the overall straps and dragged him home. He saw Rafe wave good bye as his father wrapped his arms around him.

Danny was embarrassed and upset about what his father had done. "Daddy why you done this to me?" He cried out. Cole shoved him into his room and looked the door. Scratches, screams, and bangs roared through the door. Cole took a deep breath and walked away.