As far back as I can remember, I have always had a soft spot for the underdogs of the world. I believe it all started one day at the grocery store when I heard two middle school aged boys making fun of my beloved, 14-year-old aunt, who had severe developmental disabilities. I turned around, and she had tears in her eyes as the boys were laughing and pointing at her. All I knew was that this girl was sad and being picked on, and I was not going to stand for it. My five-year-old self marched over and, poking a tiny finger into their faces, I read them the riot act. They slumped away embarrassed and chagrined at being told off by a baby. Aunt Diana stopped crying and gave me a hug. Thus, began my lifelong campaign of standing up for injustices I encountered in my world, but not every attempt to fix the wrongs in life went as pleasantly as the one in the grocery store that day.

I started out my quest by befriending children who others shunned for one reason or another. In fourth grade, our class went on a walking field trip to a local cemetery to find and identify local plant life. Timmy, an extremely backward, slightly chubby and very shy boy, needed a partner. Leann to the rescue! I volunteered and we took our assignment very seriously. We "slapped five "when our teacher congratulated us on a job well done at the end of the trip. I felt really good about becoming friends with Timmy, until the next week when our teacher brought in photographs she took on that day. Front and center on the first page of the tiny album was a picture of Timmy and me, lying on our bellies, head to head and very close, examining something on the ground. The photograph was beautiful, bright azure sky above an emerald blanket of grass, and two children who appeared to be oblivious to the world around them. It looked like they were boyfriend and girlfriend. When I saw the picture, my face burned with embarrassment. What was my teacher trying to do to me? Wasn't it enough that I volunteered to be Timmy's partner? Was it necessary to record my good deed for all eternity? Before my mind could even finish rolling through all the questions I had for my teacher, the class big mouth came up behind me and saw the photograph. She started taunting me and making fun of my nearness to the outcast boy singing, "Leann and Timmy, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g...." can you spell "h-u-m-i-l-i-a-t-e-d?"

Being a 10-year-old, egocentric, normal child, I was concerned only with the way I was feeling and about what I was going to do. I would have to tell Timmy that we could not be friends anymore. We would need to stay as far away from each other as possible. At recess that day, I approached Timmy, but when he saw me coming toward him, he turned around and ran the other way. Who knew? Timmy was more embarrassed than I was, and not being ridiculed was far more important than having a friend.

Now, my embarrassment turned to self righteous indignation. Timmy didn't want to be friends with me? How rude! My goal went from "saving face" to saving a friendship.

I spotted him across the playground, sitting alone on the curb, his back to me. A plan formed in my mind. I would sneak up behind him and start a friendly conversation. What do boys like to talk about? Baseball? No, Timmy did not play baseball. School? No way! Who wanted to talk about school? I know... Star Wars! I didn't know very much about Star Wars, so maybe I could ask him questions about it. All the boys liked Star Wars, including Timmy, as evidenced by the R2-D2 lunchbox he carried to school every day and which was the focus of much of the teasing from other kids. Fourth graders did not carry lunchboxes.

I strutted confidently to Timmy's curb, and plopped myself down beside him. He turned his head, looked at me, and stood, running as fast as his legs could take him, away. Now, I was annoyed. How was I going to get him to be my friend?

I know... Candy! Timmy loved candy. He always had an entire bag full of it in that R2-D2 lunchbox of his. And I, coincidentally, just happened to have a Tootsie Roll in my pocket. I would sneak up this time, and hold out the Tootsie Roll to him. He would not run away from candy.

Taking the Tootsie Roll from my pocket and picking off the lint, I found Timmy, now standing partially hidden by a tree, and started cautiously toward him. This time, I would sneak up in front of him with the candy at the ready. I circled around the long way and approached quietly. As I neared the tree, Timmy spotted me and froze like a deer in the headlights. His mouth fell open and eyes widened. He turned and sprinted the other direction, right into the arms of our teacher crying, "Miss James... Leann is being mean to me! She keeps following me around and won't leave me alone!"

What!? Is he crazy?

Miss James glared sternly at me over Timmy's head as she hugged him comfortingly. I knew when I was beat. I shook my head in perplexed defeat, and popped the Tootsie Roll in my mouth. Boys!