JB & Jose

In a quiet town, Jose, a curious little boy, used to hang out down by the river. That's where he saw the blond man casting his line. He didn't know him but he liked watching him fish. One day, the man noticed Jose's interest and waved him over. 'Ever fished before?' he asked. But hesitant to trust a stranger -- especially a white man -- Jose kept his distance at first.

But the white man didn't give up. He kept talking. "I'm Jimmy," he said. "But most people just call me JB. What's your name?" Reluctantly, thinking how upset his parents would be if they knew he was giving out any information, the boy replied softly, "Jose." Sensing the kids was warming up to him a bit, JB handed him his rod. "Here, give it a try." Before he even realized what he was saying, Jose blurted out, "I can't. I'm not even supposed to be in America." Without skipping a beat, JB handed him his rod, laughing. "Neither am I. But I don't think the fish will tell anyone."

All day, the two fished together, JB guiding Jose every step of the way. Though they didn't talk much, Jose felt comfortable with JB, like there was something special about him. So finally he said, "JB, why aren't you supposed to be in America? You don't look like a Mexican."

"Nope, not Mexican," JB responded. "Born right here in the good ol' Florida Keys. But I tend to find myself in a little trouble every now and then. And let's just say some of the local boys in blue have politely ask that I leave the state." Confused, Jose didn't really understand but felt okay about telling his story. "My family came here illegally. That's what people say. They tell us to get out. But my parents just want to work and live happy lives. I don't really understand it." JB smiled down warmly at the boy, "Hey. Enough talking. You'll scare the fish away."

From that day on, Jose met JB nearly every afternoon down by the river. JB taught Jose how to cast his line, how to reel in the fish and even taught him a few new words -- ones he couldn't repeat to his parents. They worked together, carefully untangling stubborn lines and reeling in the catch. They were like two old friends, catching up, laughing and challenging each other to see who might catch the big one.

Eager to show off his handy work at the river, Jose began taking his catch home to his family. They often cooked it up over the fire outside, but after a few big dinners, Jose's dad had some questions for him. "Son, where are you getting these fish? Are you taking them from someone? Are you stealing from the market?" "No, Dad, I promise I'm not. I've been fishing." "Fishing? With who? You don't even have a rod and reel." "Dad, tomorrow, I want you to come with me."

And the next day, Jose took his dad to the river to meet his friend, JB. At first, his dad was furious and demanded that his son go home. But JB quickly explained he was not concerned with how they got to America. He was just glad they did. And with that, he handed Jose his very own rod and invited his dad to join them in their daily tradition.

As time passed, Jose became an expert fisherman, thanks to JB's teachings. And his dad and JB became friends. Two fishermen became three, and their friendship, just like the river, flowed endlessly, beyond any difference in color or background.