With Henry McCabe. 2017. Last week, I said goodbye to my closest childhood friend, Henry McCabe. It would be difficult to overstate how much he meant to me. We met on the Navajo Indian Reservation, the day after my father abandoned my mom in Gallup, New Mexico, leaving her homeless. The Crow kids had changed schools four times in six years, often in the middle of the year, and this time was no different. Dad moved us to a part of Fort Defiance where outsiders weren’t welcom

When we lived on the Navajo Indian Reservation in the 1960s, Mr. Rex Kontz was Fort Defiance’s postmaster. He was also my surrogate father.

I wouldn’t be where I am today, or possibly even be alive, if it hadn’t been for the angels in my life.

As my disabilities became more apparent in childhood, I often felt sorry for myself. I had dyslexia, along with poor hearing and eyesight.