Ken

Andrew Schrader is about Hope’s age. We lived together in the Character Inn for a while in Flint, Michigan. Andrew and Hope were about five at the time. He was an adorable little boy. When he got excited he had the sweetest way of not being able to get his words out. It is like they would all jam up and then spill out once.

One day he ran up to me in the lobby and he said; “Mr. Pierpont, is-is-is-is it OK if-if-if-if I hold Hope’s hand? When-when-when-when I hold her hand I can run faster. I said, well, I know how you feel, Andrew. It’s OK for now, but let’s not do it too often.