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Rick: [narrating] It was January 23rd, 1958. I was twelve years old and my kid sister Wendy was five. My mom and dad had just been killed in an automobile accident. My aunts and uncles were arguing about who would have to take care of Wendy and me. Well, any other kid probably would have been scared, but I wasn't. I knew mom and dad would have been happy wherever they were, as long as they were together. I knew Wendy and I would be okay wherever we were, as long as we were together. But the one thing I couldn't stop thinking about is how if I was somebody I could have afforded to get some flowers for the funeral. Boy, I wanted to get them some flowers.

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