I made my first real friend 1995, a result of our placement in Mrs. Holloway’s kindergarten classroom and shared love of art. From that year forward, we were inseperable and would spend hours at her old, Vicotorian house reading and playing with our American Girl dolls.

Her dad, Mr. Walton, happened to work as a cameraman for one of the local television stations – which came along with a handful of perks that make a 10-year-old feel awfully important. We got to sit on the set and watch the WNDU evening news play out in front of our eyes, and Mr. Walton was always there to help us edit footage for the homemade music videos we dreamed of sending in to MTV’s Total Request Live.

Of all the experiences Mr. Walton allowed us, however, the most exciting took place halfway through my third grade year.