Little Billy : Time In A Bottle. by keimosobie Non-Fiction contest entry |
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In my second foster home as a six year old child, the family took a trip to Disney World. In this family I had a fourteen year-old sister named Francis. She was another foster child like me. I had a 14 year-old sister named Kathy Buccalos, she was my parents daughter by birth. I had a 15 year old brother named Mike Buccalos and a seventeen year old brother named Fred Buccalos Jr. Then there was my parents Fred and Ruth Buccalos and me Little Billy.
They were a good people, very fair, but strict. My dad worked for Ma Bell and every summer he got a vacation. We religiously packed up the pop up trailer and drove to some trailer park to have our family vacation. Something I looked forward to more then you can imagine. This year we were off to sunny Orlando Florida, Disney World. I was a big Micky Mouse Club Fan. The old black and white episodes with Annette Funicello. Mickey was a big deal to me. Off we went packed into our big yellow station wagon with the pop up in tow. My parents had carefully orchestrated the trip so we would drive for a while then stay over night at some camp ground. Then move on the next morning to travel all day to another camp ground. Finally we arrived at Disney. Each day of driving seemed like an eternity to this six year old. When we arrived at each camp site we set up camp and believe me my dad was an ex army man. When we set up camp we were preparing for battle. Tents were pitched with trenches dug around them to keep the flow of water off the tents. The pop up never seemed to go up smoothly, always some problem with the awning, or the handle to pop up the trailer, or maybe one of the pop out sections wasn't coming out correctly. Everything had to be perfect, or Dad would spend an eternity fixing it. Being a six year old, I was not allowed to leave the camp site as we set up. God forbid I would ask Dad a question and he would remind me why I shouldn't bother him. Not a violent man just angry. It was my Mom's job to take care of me. Dad had a job. I wasn't allowed to make him do any work taking care of me. He never did, believe me. That was okay by me, my last foster father spanked me just about every day. It was fine with me if he wanted to stay out of it. The man had absolutely no patience for me. So my job was to be tolerant and be patient because no-one else would be. I had been beaten enough times in my life to know when to stay small. We made it to Disney and I went on a couple of rides. I liked the flying elephants but, I couldn't get anyone to wait on line with me so consequently I saw a lot of shows. At the campground, which was a state park; they had free state concerts. My sisters were real excited because Jim Croce was having free concerts at the camp ground outdoor amphitheater. Three days in a row. The thing with a free concert, as I soon found out; was you had to get there early if you wanted good seats. Well my sisters wanted front row. They asked mom if they could go early to save seats my Mom said yes, but the only catch was they had to take little Billy. We arrived around one o'clock in the afternoon for a nine o'clock show. My sisters found out quickly that I could sit with coats, blankets, purses, and anything that could save a seat. There I sat, I didn't mind. I loved my sister Kathy. She was blonde with blue eyes, very athletic and just about the sweetest thing anyone could imagine. I would have done anything for her. It was kind of cool because around four-thirty Jim Croce would come out on stage to tune his instruments. My sisters and I were usually the only ones sitting there and as I said, my sister was quite attractive in every way so Jim gave my two sisters a lot of attention, which included me, if only in a small way. When it got to be dark and the music started it was magical. Some ten thousand people crowded to that small outdoor theater to hear Jim Croce. It was worth the wait. My sisters, who had become acquainted with Jim after a day or two of endless waiting, got called on stage to sing with Jim and on the third night I got called up there. I went up to his microphone and sang bad bad Leory Brown baddest man in the whole damn town. I was fine, I forgot the words but, I was only six, so no-one cared. I turned around to look at the audience and I saw what looked like a million people looking at me. I ran off that stage real quick. I listened to songs like Time In a Bottle, Operator(That's Not The Way It Feels), You Don't Mess Around With Jim and many others. His music was down to earth and his lyrics were like poetry. I fell in love with him and his music like only a six year old boy could. Even at six I had been through a lot. The loss of both parents and a brother and a foster family. I Identified with his pain and his suffering. I loved it. Well, the vacation ended and we headed back to Long Island New York in our yellow station wagon and our pop up trailer. We retraced our steps and stayed at the same campgrounds. Even this was a tragedy for this six year old who had already been through two families and was on my third. When I got home I got some really sad news. Well, that beautiful man Jim Croce had decided to break his contract with the parks department and fly back to New York to start a concert tour that wouldn't be free. Only his plane crashed on the way and he died. My sister Kathy broke the news to me. She was crying hysterically. I didn't cry. I didn't know what to do. I guess his bottle ran out of time.
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keimosobie
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