Dakota had a knack for finding someone in need of a helping hand and taking care of their problem.

I first met him when he walked into my junior high school reading class. Reading came hard for him because of dyslexia. Apparently, he suffered from a bad case of it, but I'd rather think his mind was just preoccupied with being a doer of good deeds and friend to anyone fortunate enough to cross his path.

Dakota wasn't the bashful type. He was a natural born actor. He and his three brothers, raised in the Methodist Church, were no strangers to the stage. His mama was always in charge of the Christmas pageant at the church, and Dakota was her shining star. He couldn't do any of the Biblical readings, but give him a little time to memorize something and he could put on a show.

I was never prouder of a student than when our One Act Play went to contest and Ol' Dakota came home wearing his overalls and toting an All-Star Cast trophy. The critic judge went out of his way to recognize his stage presence and audience appeal.

Our little school, sitting deep in the heart of Texas, is one of the smallest in the state, but our students have never let size stand in their way. There are many fascinating stories about kids from our school and their many achievements. A good number of these stories are centered on Dakota.

This lad was truly a son of the South, with deep roots in Alabama, and an immense pride in the flag with the "Stars and Bars." He loved to hunt, fish, work on old trucks, and do all the things country boys do. He also had that southern respect of his elders -- "Yes, sir" and "No, ma'am" were key components of his speech.

I can't count the times he came up to me and asked, "Hey, Mr. J., when are we going to go fishing, or how 'bout us going over yonder past the Trinity River and kill a deer?"

The last time I spoke to him was on the day of my flat tire. Dakota fixed my flat, slapped me on the back, and said, "Don't forget, Mr. J., we are going to go get us a deer." So we shook hands as we parted, and both agreed we would go deer hunting.

Now, I sit in this deer stand alone with a very heavy heart, but a smile on my face. I am sad, and I feel a tear trickling down my cheek. Dakota was killed in a traffic accident just before the opening of deer season and shortly after his twentieth birthday. I smile because that is just what Dakota always made me do.

This smile on my face is the eternal effect Dakota Dan Allcorn will have on my soul.