The Unsung Hero of Birdsong, USA

One funny thing about life and all the stuff that happens while you’re living it is that mostly you only see it through your own eyes, that is, unless you decide to try to see things through the eyes of someone else. Then, you have four eyes, and looking at things with more eyes than just your own lets you see things more clearly-maybe even see things the way they really are, not just the way you want them to be.
That’s what Meriwether claimed, and now I know he sure was right. But then again, seems like Meriwether was right about a whole mess of stuff.
My name is Gabriel, like the angel, but I’m sure not ready for heaven. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, and at times I wish I did. And we aren’t rich, but we’re a ways from being poor, and being a ways from being poor is how I got the bicycle, and having the bicycle is how I met Meriwether, and meeting Meriwether is how I learned that seeing life through more eyes than just the two on my face can make some things a lot easier to understand.
It was 1946, just another quiet Sunday in summer- time, when I met him in a town not too far off from Charleston, South Carolina-a town named Birdsong. I’d just turned twelve.
“Hot diggity dog!”
It was a brand-spanking-new Schwinn Autocycle Deluxe with a built-in electric light—a present for my birthday. I couldn’t stop grinning. I tested the brakes, traced the handlebars and frame with my fingers, and ran my hand across the seat.