First Flurries, and Becky

It felt so good to sleep in this morning. I was tired because of my sleeplessness the night before. Maybe because it's the weekend (THANK GOD) I slept pretty soundly last night.

Yesterday, for World AIDS Day, I broke out my red ribbon once again and wore it, as did several co-workers. Many of the kids had no idea what it meant. "What's that ribbon for?" was a question I heard multiple times.

Considering that the red AIDS ribbon was once one of the most famous symbols in the world, this blows my mind. But it just shows how AIDS has diminished as a medical crisis and political cause, at least in countries where people can afford the medicines to keep it at bay. I have friends who have remained perfectly healthy even after decades with HIV. Thank goodness the bad old days are over, but they're not over everywhere, which I always try to remember.

Around noon, a teacher was speaking to her class in the middle of a lesson in the library when she suddenly said, "It's snowing!" We all looked out the big windows and sure enough, flurries were coming down. It didn't last long and nothing stuck, but still -- our first snow of the season.

Which was appropriate, because yesterday was also our faculty/staff holiday party. The library closed a bit early, all the teachers gathered and we broke out the wine and prosecco, and the parents provided trays of cheese and nuts and other food. (A ridiculous quantity of food, to be honest. I feel a little guilty about it because I'm sure a lot of it didn't get eaten.) I even convinced Dave to go, which was a monumental undertaking, but I think it's important that we at least show our faces at such events.

Here's a bit of surprising news I learned. To lay some groundwork: That photo above shows me in the '70s with my friends Theresa (left) and Becky, who lived in my neighborhood. (And three traumatized kittens.) I'm guessing I was in fourth or fifth grade.

Yesterday I was reading Ms. Moon's blog when she mentioned a friend who was taking a Master Gardening class, and that made me think of Becky's father, who lived across the street from us and who also became a Master Gardener (which is some sort of official certification but don't ask me what it involves). He used to write a newspaper gardening column, in fact.

I wondered if he was still alive, and searched for his obituary, and he's not. Which isn't surprising. He was older than my parents, who are both gone. But what did surprise me is that the obituary noted that he had been predeceased by daughter Becky. So I found her obituary too -- she died on New Year's Day in 2016 at the age of 51. Although we played together as kids we weren't close friends, and in fact she went to a different school than I did -- a private school in Tampa. I can't even remember the last time I saw her. Maybe high school, or even middle school. So this news is not a personal loss on any deep level but still a surprise, in the way that a death of one's peer is always a shock.

As my brother said when I told him the news, "Wow. 51. Don’t f*ck around with time. Do what you want while you can!"