Buddy's Diary
By Russell K. Cardwell
The old man lay still in his bed for a few minutes. He had been dreaming about his son, William Jr., and though he was awake, he kept his eyes closed and tried to slip back into it. It almost never worked, but he always tried when he dreamed about Buddy, as he called his son.
Buddy was forever young in his father's dreams, and always happy. Skies were blue and clear, sun glinted off sparkling streams, and grass was the color of green you see only in April. He loved the sound of his son's laugh.
The old man gave up and rose to a sitting position. He struggled to bend his arms into sleeves, legs into pants, and he grunted while pulling on his black socks and slipping into leather shoes. Should it hurt this much? He was only 64. But he was tired all the time, and everything he did required more effort than he thought it deserved.
But today was different. Today had meaning. The old man walked into the kitchen and started a pot of Maxwell House coffee, just as he'd done for the past 40 years. Then he went to the garage and dug behind boxes of who knows what until he found a three-step aluminum stool.
The house was deathly quiet. His wife had been gone for four years, and his beloved Italian greyhound, Lady, had to be put down last year. It didn't seem fair, he thought, to live this long and end up with such sorrow. He kept on living because he didn't know what else to do.
The old man took the stool to the living room and placed it by his extensive collection of books. Then he went back to the kitchen and had two cups of coffee while looking out the window. Two squirrels played tag, and the always-busy cardinals darted from bush to bush.
Slowly, he rose and went back to the library. He stepped on the top of the stool. It gave him just enough height to reach a long row of spiral notebooks perched above the literary classics.
The old man had begun keeping a diary when his son was born 36 years before. He wanted to remember every day as Buddy grew up. Then someday he'd bequeath the diaries to Buddy, who would be able to read about what had transpired on each day of his life. After years of hard work, the diaries seemed to be the only items of real value the old man had. The rest was just stuff, and old stuff at that.
The old man ran his fingers across the spiral metal spines of the three-subject notebooks until he found a date he liked. The notebooks all were 150 pages, so they covered about five months. They were arranged in chronological order, with starting dates and finishing dates on the front.
He found a notebook from when Buddy was five, just before he began preschool. Buddy had continued to feel comfortable in filling his big-boy pull-ups right to the first day. It was a requirement of the students that they be able to use the bathroom by themselves. With just two weeks to spare, Buddy went from SpongeBob pull-ups to cotton underwear. Other than a couple of accidents at first, he had managed the change and started school on time.
The old man found the date he was looking for, in August, the last Friday before Buddy started preschool. Buddy loved to play miniature golf, so William Sr. planned a very special day just before Buddy was to enter the Fort Myers, Florida, school system and have his life changed forever.
There were three miniature golf courses in Fort Myers then, and the father and son were going to hit them all in one day. It was going to be a surprise for Buddy, one he always would remember. The old man read the diary entry:
Friday, Aug. 23, 1991---Dear Buddy, I took a day off work so I could give you a big surprise. Mom had to go to work, but we spent the day together. After your orange juice and Froot Loops, I buckled you into your car seat and took you to Gator Golf. We took the boardwalk over the gators in the pond below and even fed them a piece of chicken on a cane fishing pole. We played 18 holes, and you raced from hole to hole. Then we went to Dino Golf with all the dinosaurs. You didn't like it when the T-Rex roared and blew smoke. I bought you a golf ball painted like a billiard eight ball.
It was 11:30 by then, so we went to McDonald's for a Happy Meal and a small vanilla ice cream cone. Then we went to Castle Golf and played 18 more holes. I let you knock my ball into the 18th hole because the ball then rolls back into the building. You bought a miniature porcelain castle for Mom.
You fell asleep on the drive to Egret Park, but when I parked the car, you woke with a start and had such a look of joy when you saw the playground. We stayed for two hours, and you made friends with another little boy. On the way home, I asked, "Are you the luckiest little boy in the world today?" You said, "No. I'm the happiest."
The old man marked the page with a sticky note and sat the notebook on the couch. Then he stepped up on the stool and ran his fingers down the row of notebooks until he found one dated nearly three years later. He pulled it out, sat it down on the couch, and thumbed through it until he found the passage he sought.
Monday, May 2, 1994---Dear Buddy, You have been working so hard in second grade that I decided to give you a surprise. I'm declaring the inaugural Boys Day Out!
I let you sleep past the bus time. You were really knocked out. When you woke, I put cartoons on the TV and got you a bowl of Froot Loops. You first drank the milk from the bowl and said, "I drank the milk. Now I'll eat the food!" It finally dawned on you to ask about school, and I explained about Boys Day Out. You were so excited.
We got to Greenwell's Arcade about 10 a.m. I got you $10 of tokens, and you sprinted from game to game. You earned about 150 tickets, so we cashed them in for prizes and candy. Then we went outside and played miniature golf. You got a hole-in-one on the windmill, which earned you a free colored golf ball. You chose orange. Then we rode in a go-kart, and you yelled, "Faster, Dad! Drive like you usually do!"
Then I took you to McDonald's for a Happy Meal and a small vanilla cone. Then we went to the playground with the soccer fields, and you trotted onto that green grass like a little colt. You found two other little boys to play with, and you guys ran all over the playground, swinging, climbing, and sliding.
You slept on the way home, but when we got there, we played Chutes and Ladders and Candy Land. You beat me 12 times in a row. Then you had a juicy and cookies and watched the "Little Bear" cartoons I had taped for you. I think you'll agree that our first Boys Day Out was a big success.
The old man again marked the page with a sticky note and sat it on the couch. He thumbed through a few more notebooks until he found another one, and he pulled it out and flipped through it until he found a certain date.
Thursday, Oct. 31, 1996 - Dear Buddy, It's moving day! We got to our new home in Tampa at about noon. We had the movers put the boxes of Halloween decorations on the truck last, and we put everything up in the yard right away. You helped me set up our 7-foot-tall Grim Reaper, the Frankenstein head and hands that go in the ground. And we put the giant spiders in the trees and hung skeletons and ghosts from the limbs.
A boy and girl from next door came over, and you guys rode your bikes while the movers helped Mom and me set up the beds and furniture. The kids even came inside to see your new room and Pokémon cards.
When it was dark, you put on your "Star Wars" Stormtrooper costume, and I pulled you from house to house in your red wagon. You talked and laughed the entire way. Mom and I let you sit up till 10 p.m. on a school night, and I carried you to bed when you fell asleep on the floor by your candy. I think you had a pretty good start to a new home in a new city. I think we are going to love it here.
The old man marked the page, set it aside on the couch with the other two notebooks, and started to put the stool away. No, maybe just one more. The old man looked through a few more notebooks until he found the date he wanted.
Friday, June 12, 1998---Dear Buddy, You had to have a shot at the doctor's office today, and you have been dreading it. But I told you that if you were brave, I would take you to the arcade and go-kart track. You frowned and teared up a little, but you were a brave boy, and I'm proud of you. We played all the games you wanted, and you got prizes and candy with your tickets. Then we raced the go-karts twice. It was the first time you were big enough to drive one yourself, and you did just great. You lapped me both times and laughed your head off. We had a burger and fries in the cafeteria, then played 18 holes on the miniature golf course. It was hot, so we had sodas and cooled off when we were done. You also had an ice cream sandwich, and as we sat at the picnic tables, I watched as you took bites and gazed out over the golf course. You seemed so happy, just lost in your thoughts and savoring a wonderful day. I am so thankful that at your age, you still are happy to hang out with your old dad. You looked so happy, like you didn't want to be anywhere else in the world. The image is frozen in my mind, and I will carry it with me for the rest of my life. We stopped by Blockbuster on the way home so you could pick out movies. What a perfect day.
The old man marked the page with a sticky note and laid it beside the other three notebooks on the couch. Those were some of his best memories. Those examples might help, and he had to try.
The old man put the stepping stool back in the garage, then sat heavily on the couch and stared at the bookshelf. It was too early to drive to the courthouse. The sentencing was two hours away.
The diary passages would work. They had to. Yes, it was horrible what happened to those eight young women who had their whole lives ahead of them. Monstrous. But Buddy was no monster, not like people and the newspapers were saying. The old man had to make the judge see that there was more to Buddy than just a killer and that he didn't deserve the death sentence. Yes, he belonged in prison, but he didn't deserve to die. The old man knew it was a long shot, but he had to do whatever it took to save Buddy.
