Bobby Howell

Bobby Howell was a neighborhood boy who lived a few houses down from us when I was about 13 or 14.  He had many brothers and sisters.  His father was a doctor doing his residency in Corpus Christi.  Bobby was handsome and nice.  I liked him and he liked me just a little in return.  Occasionally I would go to his house and sometimes he would come over to mine, our parents were excellent friends so we often spent time together as families.
Two things I remember most associated with Bobby Howell:  The first occurred while I was visiting at his house and his parents were at my house.  There were so many children older and younger running around his house that our parents never worried that any of us children could possibly get into any real trouble, which was true.  No one was interested in getting into trouble. That day Bobby asked if I were thirsty and I replied, "sure".  He quickly brought me a glass of coke.  As I drank it I thought it had a bit of an unusual after taste, but not wanting to be rude and trusting him implicitly I did not mention it to him and drank the full glass over time.  When the glass was emptied I began to feel a bit odd.  I finally had to mention something to him because I wanted him to walk me home since I felt so bad.  Turns out instead of being walked home Bobby confessed he had put rum in my coke and he did not want to get into trouble so he walked me to the back porch instead, installed me in a lounge chair, told my younger sisters they had to play outside on the porch with his little sisters and left me to fall asleep which I did almost immediately.  Bobby could never apologize enough over time though he tried constantly.  I do not think either set of parents ever knew but I never drank so much as water or anything else at his house or anyone else's house unless some parent was there.   
The second memory associated with Bobby concerns his love of fishing.  Texas, at the time we lived there, had many hurricanes and tropical storms come ashore in and around Corpus Christi.  Every time a storm would come ashore you would see men and boys on the piers and docks fishing like mad as the storms would bring the fish near the shores.  Bobby loved to fish so he was out with all the other fishermen.  He had been fishing all day long after a particular storm and in the evening a knock sounded at our front door.  It was Bobby with a new trash can beside him, pointing to the can then opening the lid, he said he knew how much my family loved fish so he brought us "farty" fish.  My mother said, "What?"  He repeated that he had brought us "farty" fish.  After a moment of silence it donned on my mother that this country boy had brought "40" fish and not the smelly "farty" fish he seemed to be announcing.  After a chuckle she replied, "thank you for your gift."
Bobby was a good kid with a great Texas accent; we were good friends for a very long time.  Our parents were friends for years.