I remember he used to take me to watch him play baseball with his friends. That was when we lived in Brooklyn. I don't remember much from there, but I remembered how big the other boys were. They were fast too. Casey was the best though. He must have been better than Willie Keeler. (I don't know which boy he was, I never met him. They sure talked about him a lot though.)
The best day ever was the day Casey let me play. He had to help me, but I thought I was on top of the world. He put his hands on mine and we swung the bat, sending the ball bouncing away. Then he grabbed my hand and we ran all the way around the bases and I scored my first home run. Now how many big brothers do you think would do that for their little sister?
Then we went to Chicago and mama went away. Everyone was awful sad. I remember Elaine wouldn't let me see Casey for a whole day after that. She said he was sick. I was scared that maybe he'd caught what mama had, so I prayed for him real hard. And he got better too. I think maybe mama talked to him before she left, 'cause he started doing real nice things then, not just the fun stuff. I think my favorite was when he would put me to bed. He'd hug me and wrap me up all tight in my blanket and then he'd sing a song just for me (well, sometimes for Nat too) until I went to sleep.
We're back in New York now, but he doesn't sing much anymore, or play baseball. Sometimes he cries though. I know he still loves me, so I don't mind that he doesn't do many things with me like he used to. I think now maybe I should sing to him. I guess little sisters aren't supposed to sing to their big brothers, but who ever knew big brothers could cry?