Every country girl should be named Bobbi Jo. And, in the small town where I started school, my best friend in Grade 1 and 2 was. She was very tall for a 6 year old - even taller than me which was novel. She had long blond hair pulled to the side in pigtail braids. But not the cute way people do it now - at the nape of the neck - but the ones that start right on the top of your head close to your scalp. They were pulled tightly and had bows.
Bobbie Jo was an odd girl. Her family belonged to one of those religions where they never cut their hair and the girls always wore dresses. She was constantly happy, but in that odd way that suggests she really never understood what was going on. I remember her face clearly even to this day. She was like the over-friendly, over-positive Pollyanna. And I wanted to be just like her. She wore dresses - so I wore dresses. She wore braids - so I wore braids.
When my family moved in the middle of Grade 2, I never saw her again. In fact, I don't know if I even missed her. I remember at one point being quite mad at her when I walked into my first day of class in a gingham dress only to find that city kids didn't dress that way.