. . AND HOWIE WAS just five years old. Disney World was a blueprint then. Orlando still had a small-town feel. Fred Patino had taken a job with a big lumber and building outfit because along with Mickey Mouse would come boom times. Janet Patino was pregnant and about to give birth to Lindsay, their third child. “Third child?” I interrupted. “I was number three,” said Lindsay, “after Howie and my other brother, Mike.” “I didn’t know you had another brother.” “He died.” “I’m sorry.” “I only learned about it later on, of course. I had to piece it together bit by bit. Most of it I finally got from Mom after years of her not wanting to talk about it. The pain was just too great. Mike was three years old when I was born.” Howie doted on both of them—Mike and baby Lindsay. This was finally something Howie was good at, being a big brother. If other kids made fun of him for being a little slower than they were, he could always go home and have his two little siblings to play with.
