Winky

Besides being Chinese New Year today, it's Winky's birthday.

When I was eleven, a new family moved to our mission compound. I had been praying for missionaries to come who had daughters. For a year or two my only classmates had been boys, ever since my friend Julia had left for the United States with her parents. Now the news was good. The incoming missionaries had four children, three of whom were girls. I could hardly wait!

The new family were Canadians, but they had spent all of the children's lives as missionaries in Jamaica and Nicaragua, so the kids all spoke Spanish. And they all had nicknames which they used regularly with each other. The oldest girl was Chicky, and then came BeeBoo, and then Winky, who was just two months younger than I.

Finally there was the boy, whose name was Bruce. He was quite capable of holding his own with his sisters or anyone else, thank you very much. Following the lead of his older sisters, we referred to him as "Bruce the Bomber." I'll leave the rationale for that to your imagination.

Because the new kids had been studying in Spanish-speaking school, our teacher placed them all below grade level for their age. Winky had some intriguing singularities to her: she often stuck her little finger in her mouth and chewed on it, she spoke with a nasal quality to her voice, and she possessed a funny little sense of humor. I still remember the funny curl to her lip as she would listen to her siblings and parents joshing each other back and forth, letting her own comments fly among the others. She was just...different.

Winky's real problem was her temper. She could fly off the handle at whatever provocation came along. Angered in an instant, she would yell or shriek, slam doors or stomp, slap or bite, call names or sling invective. The provocation didn't have to be serious, either. My most vivid memory of Winky is of the time I tagged her at recess, and she responded by biting me--hard--on the arm.

Winky and I attended the same schools for six years. She finished high school and a few college classes, but she never held a job for long. She now lives in an apartment in a midwestern state, near where her sister BeeBoo once lived. When BeeBoo and her husband moved away years ago, Winky stayed in that town. She preferred stability, and wouldn't give it up to follow her pastor's wife sister around. So there she is, living on disability income, watching TV all day and hanging out with her stuffed animals. Woe betide her family members if they call her when she's busy with one of her favorite shows! They get yelled at just before she slams down the phone.

Sometimes Winky just doesn't have the time for people, regardless of who they are. Chicky once told me that she drove her parents across the country to see Winky. When they knocked on the door and called out to her, she refused to let them in. She was grumpy and didn't want to see them. They tried again, but still no luck. They finally left and drove all the way home without seeing her.

I haven't seen Winky for nearly thirty years, yet every February 7 I remember that it's her birthday. I don't know why. I guess it's because she is so close to my age, and despite the fact that we were never close as I was to BeeBoo and Chicky, in some odd way I feel like she's a long-lost relative. And I wonder what she thinks about this birthday, and how it's going for her.