Joel loved to sing and dance. His go-to was Tchaikovsky Concerto 3. He used to swing me over his bony yet muscular shoulder as a kid and Grandma used to firmly demand and warn him: “Joel, your back”. He’d gently place me down on the immaculate white carpet at 744. “That’s enough”- was the epilogue/outro to our performance. I was his *Annie* and he was my *Oliver*. I would often feel like i was a misfit in life. Sure I got along with people for the most part but when I was around Joel, I felt like we were kindred spirits in a way. I wasn’t an orphan like he was, however I understood him in areas im still trying to process. I feel like I experienced my own pseudo-holocaust. Growing up with limited means and traumatic occurrences- i guess i empathized with him. I was the daughter he never had. His prodigy. I will try to continue to make you proud 👏 Joely. Forever in my heart ❤️ and soul~Annie