On the day our guest for the school year was to arrive we met in a big chapel at the University of Utah Institute of Religion along with the other host families. We listened to several people speak, and then our names were called and we went out side to meet our Indian boy.
To our surprise, his name was Bill! Bill Coho to be exact. We shyly shock hands and introduced ourselves then we walked to our car. Dad carried Bill’s blue trunk made of metal. Bill carried a smaller bag.
As we drove off in the station wagon we learned that Bill had ridden on the bus all night from Ramah, New Mexico. He looked pretty tired. I sat next to Bill in the front seat of the car with my mom and dad. All my sisters were in the back seats of the station wagon. They were sort of giggling at me and my new brother. I felt awkward in that position, I was supposed to make this boy my instant brother. All he wanted to do was go visit the “Salt Lake”. We knew he meant the Great Salt Lake. When I say we, I mean my whole family.
The next morning, my mom walked past Bill in the kitchen. He was making a phone call. “Who are you calling?”
“My older brother.”
Mom looked at the phone number. It was long distance. At our house, you just about had to have a life or death situation to call long distance. She didn’t let him call.
Later that day, Mom found him packing his trunk, he was very homesick. He was going home. Mom convinced him to stay and even let him call long distance to his brother.
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