Note: a version of this column was first published Aug. 18, 2007.
In the fall of 1992 my youngest son Dana was given a class writing assignment. He carefully copied a poem in the cursive penmanship of a 9-year-old. After it was graded and returned to him, Dana tacked the poem to the wall next to his bed.
When I was in first grade in 1956 my best friends were twins. Janet, Roseann and I stayed close friends through grammar and high school. We saw the Beatles together. I smoked my first cigarette and drank my first Scotch with Janet and Roseann.
After we graduated, I went to San Francisco and the twins became USC Trojans (at the same time O.J. Simpson was running the football there). Janet and Roseann lived in a sorority while I moved into an apartment across from Golden Gate Park. We saw each other less and less. I attended their storybook weddings and they sent beautiful gifts when my twins were born.
Through all the years that passed, I sent Janet and Roseann each a birthday card every March. In 1992, when we were 42 years old, Roseann called to thank me for remembering her birthday for so many years. We reminisced about our childhood and I spontaneously invited her to visit and meet my family in Grants Pass. To my surprise, she came for a weekend. When she returned home she sent a thank-you note inviting us to her family’s condo on Catalina Island.