It only happened once, but it happened.

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Roughly.

I got a note from my high school girlfriend, Ro. I don’t know if she goes by Ro now, but that’s what everyone called her in those days. I hear from her every few years, when something big happens in the part of rural Indiana we grew up in, or to report what I missed at a school reunion.

“Scott, I just read that your mother passed away. I am sorry for your loss.” She complimented the post I made just after the fact. And because I am incapable of simply typing, “thank you,” I typed:

“She was a lot of fun. We traveled to France and Jamaica and Napa with Mom and Jim over the years quite a bit. But even when we had them out [to Los Angeles] about a decade ago, she wasn’t getting around as well as we were expecting.…