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Nate Marshall's avatar

Daniel Pacheco.

That was my Kenny. He was in my second grade class. Sweet. Hard-working. “Slow.” His dad was an artist by profession and helped him (see: did for him with his best efforts at participating) with projects. I remember the way he walked on his toes, his heels never quite touching the ground as if skeptical of it. His brown doe eyes. Daniel’s was a gentle soul. I was generally kind to him and tried to befriend him. We’d play tether ball or pick dandelions at recess. I didn’t participate in bullying him, which is no virtue really; many didn’t. But on a particular day somebody made fun of him. I don’t remember what the joke was, but it was at Daniel’s expense. I laughed.

The pain of betrayal made his doe eyes well, and I’ll never forget his face in that moment. We played many times after that but that look he gave me is permanently burnt into my memory and haunted me for many years. I can’t remember if the Pachecos moved or what, I just know I lost contact and have been unable to find him.

I’m sorry for the loss of Kenny, but thank God you met him and that you were kind to him when you did. “A cup of cold water in My name...”

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Apollo's Lyre's avatar

Thank you for the kind words concerning my review; I'm very glad you enjoyed it. It was challenging to convey my complicated feelings on intelligence--and society's perverse obsession with it--but it means a lot to read that my attempt met with at least some modicum of success : )

I am even more humbled that my meager ruminations over a movie about a talking racoon could in some small way contribute to this extraordinary article. I got choked up reading about you getting choked up staring at that convenience store facade! So much of what you wrote really resonated with me; frankly, it sounds like we had some similar "Good Will Hunting"-style experiences haha. And speaking of "Celeano," I can still remember skipping lunch in high school to sneak off to the library and read the (in retrospect, quite surprisingly--and serendipitously--stocked) S.T. Joshi works on my beloved Lovecraft.

I could ramble on at length about all of the eloquent points you made in your post (as anyone who has made it through my novel-length review of GotG 3 can attest to), but suffice it to say thank you for sharing your insight and for keeping Kenny's memory alive. I believe you did a great thing in giving him that glass of water that day and a great thing in telling his story here. And if anyone disagrees, I'd point them to the Good Book itself:

Matthew 25: 34-40

Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

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