I Took Him With Me, Sort Of

Just back from my 50-year high school reunion. I liked it, seeing the place again, the ocean, the neighborhoods I knew--many changed, many not, but more people there in Santa Monica by far than when I grew up there. Fun to visit with the people I grew up with. We met for dinner Friday night at the end of Santa Monica Pier and for the reunion proper Saturday night at the Marina. Beautiful days and nights, beautiful air, good people.

Big graduating class: about 750 people. We had about 300 there.

At the reunion, I didn't really expect people to mention Wayne, but clearly that was what I wanted. Some did. Some were reticent to, no doubt. I saw Danny O'Mahoney. Oh yes, he remembers Wayne very well. Got reaquainted with Bob and Bruce and Chuck and others I went to school with from kindergarten on.

I vow, every now and then, to keep moving forward, however one does that. I vowed that again at the reunion.

George and Gretta

I sat down beside George Huff yesterday before church to see how he was doing. Last Sunday he said he was doing fine. Yesterday he said he was okay, which, I'd say, is less than fine. I asked him, and wished I hadn't, how it is now living in that house without Gretta. He began to cry and could not speak. I put my arm around him and said, "Oh George, I'm sorry."

He was a few moments recovering, then said, "It'll get better, won't it? You know. You've been there."

I said, "Yes, it will get better, but it might not be tomorrow."

I patted his back and looked up at his daughter, Carolyn, who is still coming to our ward, this time for him instead of Gretta, and who, I am sure, is staying very close to him. She looked at me and frowned in sympathy for her dad.

Something Small

It was January 12, 2007. I lost Wayne’s ring, his wedding ring which I have worn on the middle finger of my right hand since soon after he died.

I had gone to bed early but woke with a start at about 10:45 p.m. and thought to feel my hand for the ring. It was not there. Funny how such a thing can wake you from a sound sleep. I threw back the covers and felt all over the bed, looked on the dresser, on the floor, in the closet, in the pockets of everything I had worn for the last two days. I had no idea when it had slipped off.

I thought it might be in the gloves I had worn to shovel snow. No. Not in the car. Not in the washer. Not in the hampers or the jewelry box. I went to bed again. In the morning I looked again in the gloves and pockets. No. I prayed to find it, but I didn’t have much faith, I’m afraid.

The whole thing made me sad. You know.

Next day I went to Lola’s, to Costco, to Office Max, and came home. The driveway snow had melted by then. I had items in the trunk, so I walked back to get them and saw the ring on the driveway pavement about five feet behind my car. I had driven over it backing out and coming in.

Small thing? Sure, but it felt like a little miracle to me. Could I live without the ring? Sure, but I am glad I don't have to.