She’ll never really know how she changed him because she didn’t know him before. But I did. And I didn’t like him. I loved him, but I didn’t like him.
When we were kids I called him “Doey” because I couldn’t say his name right yet. And it drove him crazy. Of course he got me back a couple years later when “Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong” came out. He would sing it to me constantly and I’d always yell back, “That song isn’t me! I can be wrong! I can be wrong!”
He was a social butterfly, anywhere we went, even a hotel for one night, and he’d make friends. I preferred to practice handstands in the hotel pool alone, while him and his new friends would splash around with a Nerf football in the other end. But I always knew that I was more special to Joey than all his new friends. Him and I had an impenetrable bond, glued together by years of playing “Ginger Alert!” with our dog outside, rolling down the stairs in the bottom of sleeping bags, or avoiding dad when he was inevitably drunk again. Read More