It only happened once, but it happened. Press enter or click to view image in full size 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. And by the end, her sight was so bad that she could only tell it was me in the room from my voice.…