Contents

How It Started

I’m planning to enjoy the wonders this world has to offer for a long time to come, but of course, you can never rule out the stray Mack truck, or the odd meteorite that whacks you on the head on just the day that you forgot to wear your helmet. So, in case my journey’s end comes sooner than expected, I want you, my friends and family, to know a few things about me that you might not otherwise be aware of….

A little background: in August 2012, my friend Donna G. commented to me that the difficult divorce she’d gone through years before was the best thing that had ever happened to her. “Difficult divorce” and “best thing” don’t often appear in the same sentence, and I must have had a blank look on my face. Donna explained that the difficulty had made her connect with God in a way she’d never done before – praying to and “conversing” with God every day, and feeling a real, personal connection with a higher power.

“Okay…,” I thought to myself. “How to respond to that comment…?”

Where faith was concerned, I’d evolved from a blissfully agnostic child, to apathetic middle schooler, to doubting but hopeful existentialist in high school, to light-duty Christian-leaner in college, to Christian after grad school. I’d called myself Christian since before I was married, and a card-carrying Catholic since 1992, when our son Chris was born (Ok, we don’t really carry cards, but you get the idea…). I’d attended church on Sunday for over 20 years. Once a week helped keep me from getting too derailed with impatience, irritability and all the other gremlins that regularly invaded my life. Church was my weekly mid-course correction. You wouldn’t want to be too close to me if I was stressed and hadn’t had my weekly inoculation….

Donna’s comment really struck me: “Best thing that ever happened…”? The idea of connecting with God more frequently than just on Sunday seemed to be a big commitment – I mean, I’ve got a lot of things on my plate…. Despite this, I knew that Donna had great peace and a profound spirituality which I admired. So, I decided to try a daily conversation with God myself – just for one week, mind you – and see what would happen.

The First Day

The next morning I went outside and stood in the orchard at our San Diego-area home. It was a ridiculously beautiful morning: a symphony of song birds, a cloudless, deep blue sky, warm rays of sunlight, soaring California pepper trees gently swaying in the breeze alongside our orchard of apple, orange and avocado trees.

Feeling a little foolish and a lot self-conscious, I glanced around to see if any neighbors might be shaking their heads at the nutjob who was mumbling to himself in my yard (that would be me). Not seeing anyone, I plowed ahead….

A quick aside before I describe this first morning in the orchard: I’m going to refer to God as “he” even though I have no insider information in this regard – it’s just what I’m used to. You may perceive God as “Mother” or “Spirit” or “Almighty Being Infinitely Beyond What Mortals Can Conceive” (like a slug trying to comprehend Einstein discoursing on Relativity). I’m betting God will forgive us if we’ve botched our conception of what he looks like or what form he takes.

That being said, I think he’s dropped a few hints to show that he is in fact Out There. Consider for example the astonishing complexity of the simplest functional protein needed for life, whose likelihood of occurring by chance is once in a number that is trillions of trillions of trillions of times larger than the number of sub-atomic particles in the universe. Given that, I think the odds favor God rather than chance. If you agree, I think you might find what I’ve come to call my “Peace Time” exercise below to be helpful. If you disagree, I still think you’ll find this exercise useful. So, the right answer in either case is (you guessed it): just keep reading!

Okay, back to the story…. So there I was, standing in the orchard, awkwardly starting a conversation with The Big Guy. I began by expressing thanks for all the wonders of that morning. I thanked him for my family – wife Silvana, son Chris and daughter Annie – for the frequent, inexpressible happiness they bring me – at times overwhelming me. I thanked him for my loving siblings, cousins, uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, my amazing mother, and friends. I thanked him for the health we’ve enjoyed. I thanked him for loving me from the very beginning, right now, and forever…. I thanked him for the blessing of living in a beautiful part of the world, in a comfortable and lovely home, in a country of great freedom and opportunity (far from perfect, of course, but I’m not trading…).

It then occurred to me that the biggest gift I’ve been given is forgiveness for my shortcomings, redemption through Christ, and salvation that will open the doors of heaven when I breathe my last.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I believe this – hey, I’ve been a Christian for more than half my life. But why do I believe it?

• I absolutely buy into the message of Christ – “Love one another.” How much better would the world be if we all did this – not just with those who look and think like us, but with everybody?
• I believe that first century fishermen and tax collectors wouldn’t have evangelized to the point of martyrdom just to perpetuate a hoax.
• I believe the stories of neurosurgeons and others who’ve had near-death experiences revealing an afterlife.
• And, I’ve had my own experience of the healing touch of Christ.

So yes, I believe Christ’s words about love, forgiveness and heaven, and I realized on that morning that of all the blessings in my life, this is the biggie.

Yet even as I thanked Christ for this gift of gifts, a thought flashed through my mind and I asked myself, “If you really believe this, why would you ever need to be anxious, angry, irritable, or any of the other uncomplimentary adjectives you can attribute to yourself on a regular basis?” I realized that in allowing myself to be hijacked by such unproductive emotions, I was limiting the space within me where Christ’s peace could grab hold. I needed to turn the tables – fill myself up with the good stuff to squeeze out the negatives. So, on that first morning out in the orchard, I asked Christ to empty me of anxiety, anger and irritability, and to fill me with peace. I said out loud:

“Lord, I ask you to empty me of anxiety, and fill me with your peace; I ask you to empty me of anger, and fill me with your peace; I ask you to empty me of irritability, and fill me with your peace.”

Now that I was heading down this path, I figured I might as well do it with gusto. So after making each request, I exhaled deeply, imagining the negative emotions flowing out of me, at the same time envisioning Christ standing with me, facing me, listening to me and responding by “flowing” peace into me from his outstretched arms, filling my whole being.

If I’m losing you here, I can relate – I was losing myself too. I wasn’t sure if I’d gone off the deep end or had somehow managed to put myself into a hypnotic trance. Everything seemed a little unreal, yet I felt unburdened, as if I were physically lighter, and filled with calm. I was tempted to question what I was feeling, but actually, I felt really good – so why mess with that?

When I finished in the orchard that day, I felt energized, at peace – and a little embarrassed. I hoped that none of my neighbors had seen me standing outside, alone, babbling to myself. The symphony of birds in the morning blended so well with the thankfulness I was feeling, but part of me questioned just how much effect my words and thoughts could be having. Nonetheless, I knew my friend Donna had reached a new level of peace in her life by doing this, so I decided to keep it up – even though it was very different from my normal way of thinking and acting.

Growing Peace

I repeated this exercise the next day, and the next, and the next, until a week had gone by. I came to call this my “Peace Time,” an expression suggested by my wife Silvana. Along the way I noticed something unusual –for me at least. Saying aloud what I was grateful for, praying to flush out the useless negativity that so often filled me, then visualizing being emptied of the bad stuff and filled with peace – all combined to bring about a change. I found that my sense of gratitude stayed with me all day long. Annoyances seemed less important. When I started to feel tense I’d remind myself that “all will be well” until, in fact, all was well.

That first week gave way to a month, the month to the entire Fall, and Fall to the other seasons in their turn. As time passed, I found myself more and more looking forward to my Peace Time. I got used to standing alone in the backyard and letting my mind reflect upon the wonders of life and the universe, the sweetness of a close-knit family, the gratitude I felt for friends I’ve been given, and the circumstances of my life.

And, just like life changes, my Peace Time evolved. I discovered more reasons to be thankful for my blessings, a growing desire to leave unproductive emotions behind – and more kinds of those emotions that I wanted to free myself of. I realized that it was more than just anxiety, anger and irritability that I needed to let go of. One by one the negative emotions showed themselves, and I saw that I’d have to confront each one of them head-on, and daily, in order to push them out of my life. As on that first day, I would begin my Peace Time by imagining Christ with me, listening to me and responding to me. But now I had an entire laundry list of shortcomings that needed attention, and I’d go through each one:

“Lord,
Empty me of anxiety, and fill me with your peace;
Empty me of anger, and fill me with your peace;
Empty me of darkness, and keep me in your light;
Empty me of despair, and fill me with faith, and hope, and trust in you;
Empty me of fear, and fill me with your peace;
Empty me of frustration, and fill me with your peace;
Empty me of impatience, and fill me with patience;
Empty me of irritability, and fill me with your peace.”

As on the first day, I visualized Christ with outstretched arms, with an invisible yet tangible outpouring of peace emanating from him and infusing me. I would feel the dark clouds clearing up, and sense the peace that was filling me. I would then ask Christ to keep me filled with that peace all day long, so that everyone I met that day would see that peace in me, and might want to experience some of that peace for themselves. I began to view sharing peace with others as a responsibility, a sacred duty.

Loved Ones

While spending all that time contemplating my blessings, it’s no surprise that I started to reminisce about the people – now departed – who’d brought so many of those blessings into my life. I wanted to do something special in honor of people who were no longer living, people who’d shown me and my family great kindness. Now, you might be thinking: “If someone’s died, they don’t need any prayers or blessings….” But I can’t see how anyone can ever have too many prayers or be blessed too much, so I’m perfectly happy to pray and bless kind-hearted family members and friends who are no longer with us.

My blessing starts with my mom, Mary Z. Freestone, who raised me and my brother and sister by herself, who made me believe I could do anything I set my mind to, and inspired my life-long love of reading and writing. I form an image of Mom in my mind – sometimes out in the garden she loved, or cooking one of her sumptuous Greek dinners, or putting up the clunky canvas tent we used when camping in the California redwoods. I ask out loud for God to bless Mom. I then move on to my Yiayia (my Greek Grandmother), to Auntie Diane, Uncle Paul, and so on down the list.

How long a list? Well, on that first day I recalled and blessed maybe 10 people. As the weeks went on the list grew, though, opening my eyes and my appreciation for just how many people had had a hand in giving me a better life.

As of this writing there are 67 special people I bless every day (you can read about each of them at the end of this writing). I know what you’re thinking: “Yikes – 67?!” You might wonder how long it takes, or what exactly I do. It’s pretty simple; I visualize each person, recall something about them, and say their name aloud. I do this to keep them fresh in my memory and to keep myself focused. If I just thought silently and passively about these friends and family I’d become distracted in 30 seconds and forget what I was doing and why. Instead, I get to re-live a cascade of favorite memories everyday – and it takes less than 10 minutes. Talk about starting your day off right!

When you read at the end of this writing about the family and friends who I bless daily, you might question why I provide actual names and details about each person. It’s because I hope my giving real-world examples will remind you of persons in your life – living or not – who’ve made your life better in smaller or greater ways. I hope this might inspire you to create your own list of such people to thank or bless in your own way, during your own version of Peace Time.

The longer you contemplate your list and thank those who are on it, the more people will come to mind who have shown kindness to you and yours. You’ll add more persons to your list, and that will increase your daily sense of gratitude for the blessings and kindnesses that have been yours through the years.

Loved Ones (But Not at First…)

As I reminisced about all the people who had been kind to me and my family over the years, I couldn’t help but think about their opposites – people who were unkind, or irresponsible, or manipulative. Arrrghh – some of my anxiety, anger and irritability would flare up as I started to stew about how my family or I had been treated.

Now, intellectually I know that such feelings are not going to help me – or anyone – and in fact cause real harm to body and soul. And you don’t have to look any further than the Lord’s Prayer to know that “forgive those who trespass against us” isn’t merely a suggestion. Blessing those who’d shown me kindness was easy, but as much as I hated to admit it, I needed to forgive and even bless those who’d been unkind to me or my family. This might sound crazy, but the only way I felt I could truly forgive such people was by actively and sincerely blessing them.

So, I started praying to forgive and bless individuals I felt had wronged my family or me. My dad was one of these. Though he imparted artistic, athletic and intellectual gifts to his children, for reasons unknown he succumbed to alcoholism, and when my mom and he divorced, he did not financially support my family.

Others I began to pray for included acquaintances who were unethical, a school bully, and neighbors who’d been mean-spirited (far outnumbered, fortunately, by wonderful neighbors!).

I made it a point to visualize each of these people in my mind’s eye and speak their names out loud as I blessed them and forgave them their unkindnesses. Blessing and forgiving such people was really hard – truly, one of the hardest things I’ve ever done – because it was so disagreeable in the beginning even to recall some of them to mind. But feeling that distaste told me I hadn’t truly forgiven them yet – I still had work to do.

Over time I made three discoveries. First, when I ran into one of these individuals after many months of daily Peace Time, I found that my usual reaction (rising heartbeat, reddening face, a spike in adrenalin) had disappeared, replaced by compassion and a recognition that this person was equally loved and forgiven by God as I, and no less deserving of God’s grace and Christ’s gift than I.

Second, I discovered a whole new way of viewing these individuals. For example, after I’d spent months forgiving and blessing grammar school bully Louie L., an older boy who terrorized me for years on my walk to my elementary school, I realized for the first time just what a horrible family environment he must have grown up in – how badly he must have been treated – to have resorted to bullying me as an outlet for his own fear, anger and powerlessness. I began to feel truly sorry for what he had endured up to that point in his brief life.

Third, I found that forgiving and blessing these individuals was extremely healing – for me! My old grudges and chips on the shoulder began to crumble, replaced with genuine sympathy and compassion. I was taken by surprise; a new “me” seemed to be emerging. In coming to see these old memories in a new way, I felt mentally lighter and freer than at any time I could remember.

Peace Time Healing

Around this same time I found myself adding a prayer of healing for people with serious problems. I prayed for my daughter Annie, who is on the autism spectrum with serious developmental delays, a mood disorder and genetic anomalies, who can be filled with debilitating anxiety. I prayed for a young niece with severe OCD, another niece who is slowly losing her sight, and her golden-haired baby girl who has cystic fibrosis. I prayed for my father-in-law, whose mind started leaving this world 12 years ago as Alzheimer’s began its sad journey, and for two elderly aunts, my mom’s sisters, who are suffering from several illnesses. I prayed for friends who’d been in accidents or lost loved ones.

Partly I pray for actual physical or psychological healing right now, though I recognize that such miracles are rare. Partly I’m praying that all these people will be filled with peace, and be given the blessing of love and support by those close to them, to help them go through what life is throwing at them. Yes, I believe they will all be healed, and healed completely, when they reach life’s end. But I still think it’s worthwhile to pray that the journey toward that end will be gently paved….

Sticking With It

I’ve already mentioned the positive change I felt in myself as Peace Time became a daily part of my life. I need to admit something though: like physical exercise, it requires sticking with it to continue to enjoy the benefits.

In spring of 2013 I’d been doing Peace Time daily for months. Everything was going really great – unbelievably great – both at home, at work, physically, mentally, every way you can imagine. Occasionally, though, I’d have a morning so filled with activities that I had to delay Peace Time. That was okay I figured; I’d pick it up later in the day. Except that sometimes the entire day would slip by, and I’d find suddenly that it was late night. Now, while my mental energy is fine during the day; it all but shuts down at night. So, a day would go by without Peace Time. And, like any slippery slope, once I started sliding in that direction, it was easy to keep going, and I found days going by with Peace Time dropping off the radar screen.

When this happened it became apparent that I was quickly “getting out of shape.” Which included of course, “getting bent out of shape.” I realized that I’m the kind of person who needs a daily reminder to keep my sense of peace going. So, no matter how busy the day is, it doesn’t ever end without Peace Time. Sometimes I can’t do it until afternoon or early evening, but I make sure it happens. I’ve learned that the benefits of doing so vastly outweigh the little extra time I’d gain by skipping it.

Does it get boring to think about the same list of people day after day? Actually, it doesn’t, because in reviewing people each day, I’ll find myself suddenly coming up with a different image, a different memory of another time with one of those people – a memory that I’d completely forgotten until just then. There’ll be a pleasant little re-discovery that’s like a gift from the past – like when you dream about someone close to you who’s passed away, or a person you haven’t seen in a long time. I never get tired of that. I go through the same people in my mind every day because if I don’t, my sense of thankfulness and peace wears off. Feeling gratitude is worth repeating. The regular mental effort keeps me “tuned up.”

Today

It’s now two and a half years since I began this change in my routine, this change in my outlook, this change in my life. What’s different? I am, most definitely. The gremlins of anxiety, anger, darkness, despair, fear, frustration, impatience and irritability are largely at bay. I feel at peace the vast majority of the time, and when I don’t, I can deal with it.

Of course, it occurred to me that I might just be imagining all of this – that nothing really has changed. So I recently asked by wife of 28 years, Silvana, to quantify as best she could the improvement she’s seen in me – on a scale from 0 (being no change) and 100 (which equates basically to sainthood). She gave me an 85. I think she low-balled this to give me an incentive to keep striving. Nonetheless, 85 means the change is real, positive – and pretty darn dramatic.

What is this change like? When life is filled with anxiety, stress, anger, etc., it’s like a dam filled right to the top – every little thing causes an overflow, and overflows can cause real damage. Flushing away the negative emotions and replacing them with peace is like bringing down the water level in the dam, so overflows disappear. And like the air that takes the place of the water spilling over the dam, the peace that replaces destructive emotions is lighter, and puts less stress on the system – which is me and those who surround me.

Now, life still isn’t perfect. I still have autistic daughter with sometimes paralyzing anxiety in addition to a mood disorder. I still spend a lot of time caring for elderly in-laws. I still have to work for a living. No one has approached me to play a starring role in a major motion picture. I haven’t won the lottery yet, and prospects there seem unlikely since I don’t play. But, I have gained immeasurably. Life is calmer, sweeter. I am grateful for far more than before – for the friends and family who surround me, for the color and sounds that surround me, for the intricacies and interconnectedness of life.

My Wish For You

If you’re experiencing any of the unproductive emotions that have been part of my life, I encourage you to try some Peace Time of your own. There’s not a lot to risk; you don’t have to sign up for a long commitment – maybe just a week to start out. You might have a better approach to all this than I did, in which case – please share!

Maybe your Peace Time is centered on Christ and/or God; maybe it’s not. If that’s not where you’re at today, you can still find reasons to feel gratitude for the good that has come into your life, the kindnesses that have been shown to you. With gratitude will come peace, and with peace a new way of viewing the world – and who knows where that will lead…

Whatever you do, if you’re not completely satisfied with how life is unfolding, try something new. I hope that some form of Peace Time will become part of that new approach.

With much love and affection for you,

Lane Freestone

My List

1. Mom (Mary Z. Freestone), who made me think I could do anything I set my mind to, and inspired a love of reading and writing.
2. Yiayia (Greek for Grandmother), who taught me to love my Greek heritage.
3. Auntie Diane, Mom’s older sister, who stayed in weekly contact for years after Mom died.
4. Uncle Paul, my quiet, gentle, humble great uncle.
5. Thia (Greek for Aunt) Nitsa: my “Big Fat Greek Wedding”-type great aunt who kindly sold Mom a small home she owned so we could have a place to call our own.
6. Uncle Tykie, who played games with us when we were children, asked our opinions and took our answers seriously.
7. Auntie Tina, who visited nearly every holiday and, together with Uncle Tykie, came with plates overflowing with feta cheese, Kalamata olives and other delectables.
8. Uncle Pete, the better-off side of the family who nonetheless included us in numerous get-togethers.
9. Auntie Mary, the better-off side of the family who nonetheless included us in numerous get-togethers.
10. Kit “Kitty” Hillery, my super-artistic cousin who concentrated her love and attention on her siblings’ and cousins’ countless offspring, including my children.
11. Inger Christensen (“Mor,” my Danish mother when I was a foreign exchange student for a year in Denmark), who taught me that life isn’t just one big competition, to take time for other human beings, and take time just to live.
12. Gert Christensen (“Far,” my Danish father), who provided me with a much-needed father role model – who was responsible, good-humored, and devoted to his wife and children.
13. John Christensen, my Danish brother and construction company owner who, despite my ineptitude and lack of coordination (including crashing his tractor into a tree at one jobsite), let me work in his construction company to earn money during my first year there and again a few years later when I returned to Denmark during a break from college.
14. Marianne Magnus, John’s common-law wife, who patiently provided grammatical pointers to make my spoken and written Danish close to perfect.
15. Fru Munch, my close friend Torben’s mom, who made me feel like another son in her family.
16. Herr Munch, Torben’s dad, who also made me feel extremely welcome in their home.
17. Henning Hasle, the father of a lovely family I met on a mini-exchange program in Denmark, who welcomed me into his family with such generosity and kindness that I am still close to all his children (and their children) 40 years later.
18. Tío Ernesto, Silvana’s uncle in La Paz, Bolivia, whose gentleness, calmness, wisdom and interest in me and others permeated his being.
19. Tío Antonio, Silvana’s uncle in Madrid, Spain, whose hospitality, warmth and good humor made me feel immediately like part of his family.
20. Tía Pilar, Silvana’s aunt in Madrid and wife of Tío Antonio, who echoed her husband’s warmth and welcome.
21. Uncle Vitold, Silvana’s uncle in New York, whose friendship, patience and gentleness through months of counseling us in person and over the phone quite literally saved our marriage.
22. Uncle Wilford, my dad’s younger brother, who would call regularly just to let me know he was thinking about me.
23. Aunt Ellene, Uncle Wilford’s wife, who always radiated serenity and good humor.
24. Uncle Norman, my father’s other younger brother, a former professor who showed insatiable curiosity and interest in the high tech work I was involved in; he showed me that the pursuit of learning can be a lifelong love and avocation.
25. Aunt Dora, Uncle Norma’s wife, who opened her home to me two days twice a month for two years so I wouldn’t have to stay in a sterile hotel when commuting to Orange County.
26. Uncle Blaine, my father’s older brother, who was kind to my mother and us kids years after Mom had divorced his brother.
27. Aunt Mildred, Uncle Blaine’s wife, who welcomed us as much as her husband.
28. Betty Jones, a neighbor and like Mom, a mother raising children by herself, who was a good friend to Mom for nearly 30 years.
29. Celia Kooper, a sweet, kind and generous neighbor, who let us play in the lot adjacent to her home while we were growing up.
30. Victor Smith, neighbor who gave me my first regular gardening job. Mr. Smith displayed a great sense of humor.
31. Lucille Smith, neighbor who gave me my first regular gardening job. Mrs. Smith had a warming smile and twinkling eyes.
32. Mabel Dunsmore, a lovely elderly neighbor with snow-white hair, who found me jobs with her friends, loaned me history books, and always welcomed my visits.
33. Myrtle Whiting, a friend of Mabel’s, who kept me busy with odd jobs for years. Stooped and so short she drove peering between the dashboard and the top of her steering wheel, she had a quick wit and even quicker smile.
34. Mrs. Darling, another friend of Mabel’s, who found jobs for me and had permanently smiling eyes.
35. Mrs. Cleghorn, who at 86 years old held stakes for me to pound into the ground in her garden, and taught me that dirt isn’t dirty.
36. Mrs. Hopping, a neighbor who always called out a cheering word from her porch stoop.
37. Helen Zupan, Mom’s next-door neighbor, who was always kind to Mom and to us.
38. George, Helen’s forever beau, who was equally friendly to us as Helen.
39. Mr. Babienco, Mom’s other next-door neighbor. He was an elderly Russian immigrant with thick white hair and a thick white moustache whom we called “The Candy Man” because he’d always have some small treat for us when we came knocking at his door.
40. Li Boman, Mom’s writing colleague and native Dane who was in my life for decades, who took me in and gave me time to get my bearings when I in limbo between sophomore and junior year of college.
41. Lars Boman, Li’s husband, a (cough cough) cigar-smoking Swede who none-the-less donned his Bavarian hat and took me on camping trips with his children and introduced me to hiking, which became a life-long love.
42. Beth Hunt, an elderly friend during my teenage years who shone with spirituality and love of life.
43. Nelly Chuma, a co-worker of Mom’s who became a family friend. Wealthy by our standards, she was generous with odd jobs, her swimming pool and an unending supply of Frescas.
44. Steve Chuma, Nelly’s husband, who welcomed us just because his wife did so.
45. Bill Hose, Nelly and Steve’s friend and supporter of Nelly after Steve unexpectedly died, who was enthusiastic about and interested in us kids.
46. Jeanne Folk (“Poopie”), Mom’s friend from the 1950s when they were American Airlines stewardesses, who opened her Southern California home to us countless times over the years.
47. Barbara Tucker, another of Mom’s good friends from American Airlines days, who remained close to Mom for decades.
48. Sophie Shaw, Mom’s gentle friend with a unique and infectious laugh, who together with husband Emerson welcomed us into their home for many celebrations, and gave us unforgettable memories at their Tahoe-area cabin.
49. Emerson Shaw, Sophie’s husband with bushy eyebrows and a ready smile, who together with Sophie welcomed us into their home and gave us unforgettable memories at their Tahoe-area cabin.
50. Bill Cheney, Mom’s friend from American Airlines days who, together with wife Maire, funded the difference between our scholarships and loans and the total we needed for our undergraduate studies.
51. Maire Cheney, Mom’s friend from American Airlines days who, together with husband Bill, helped pay for our undergraduate studies.
52. Fran Fitzstevens, a dear friend from Mom’s stewardess days, whose whole family was so loving to us. When Mom was seriously ill in the 1960s and 70s, she made arrangements for Fran to bring us into her family if Mom did not survive.
53. Pat Rogers, a professional acquaintance of Mom’s who was a big supporter and good friend.
54. Joe Mergl, Mom’s insurance agent who treated Mom like gold even though we didn’t have much to insure, and was warm and helpful to my siblings and me.
55. Martha Harz, Mom’s high school friend who visited from the Midwest and stayed in regular touch with my Mom all through Mom’s life.
56. Ethel Worn, a friend of Mom’s when we were growing up who was always cheery and good-humored.
57. Bob Tetzlaff (“Mr. T”), my 5th grade teacher and world-class cyclist who showed our class cycling movies before they were cool, took me on my first organized bike ride (on my Stingray with the banana seat), and fostered in me a life-long love of cycling that endures today, 45 years later.
58. Bob Darrow, my neighbor when Silvana and I bought our first home, a man of the highest integrity and faith, who taught me to make decisions by asking myself, “Is it right? Is it true? Is it kind?”, and proceeding only when the answer is “Yes” to all three.
59. Doris Darrow, Bob’s wife, who found a reason to praise God unceasingly. After we moved to San Diego, she and Bob opened their home to me for two days a week for eight months during a period when I was still working in northern California.
60. Bea Gottschall, an elderly neighbor of Silvana’s and mine who loved our children unconditionally, encouraged them unreservedly, and used the word “Wonderful!” more than anyone else I’ve ever met.
61. Charlie Bond, a retired neighbor who was filled with self-effacing humor and fanatical support for my wife’s then-fledgling real estate business
62. Jane Mackay, a lovely, elegant colleague into her 80s, who always took time to say hello and listen to how people were doing.
63. CJ D’Angelo, a young colleague I worked with at two companies, who showed me that you can be unceasingly positive and yet calm and at peace at the same time.
64. Mike Wright, a grad school classmate and friend whom I never recall to mind without seeing his brilliant smile.
65. Bob Fendrich, a caring friend who walked our neighborhood daily, knew scores of neighbors well, not just by name, and was always ready with a helping hand or information he’d gathered after talks with us that he knew would be helpful.
66. Rick Batty, grad school classmate and roommate after graduation, who was always kind and gentle and stayed in contact throughout his life.
67. Chris Dipasquale, grad school classmate and roommate during school, who was generous, caring and good-humored, who put great effort into maintaining our friendship over the years.