> There are so many people you only see once--a substitute bus driver, a classmate passing by in the hall, a fellow shopper at a store. Sometimes, you lock gazes, "read" each other (so to speak), and one of you moves by and the moment is lost. Unacknowledged but by that one glance, you go your separate ways. The only thing left, most likely, is a vague memory of the other person, and even that will probably not last long. Perhaps, by some chance, you'll meet again, but unless your memory is good, you won't realize it. Perhaps you'll see that face again on the front page of the local paper--or an obituary. You simply can't know...
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> There are some people that, certainly, one is glad not to have known. There are others that one may have just "clicked" with, or been able to help or be helped by. Either way, both live their lives unknown to the other. Both go through celebration, tragedy, joy, sadness... unknown by the other person at that chance meeting.
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> Sa[thoughts from a bus-awaiting ponderer]ku[This was much more coherent when I'd first thought of it. If only my fingers could move as fast as my thoughts...]ra

That's pretty deep. But it makes you think. I thought about people that I used to see all the time and hardly ever see them anymore. One such person was Jim, a friend who taught in the same school system as me. Jim died earlier this week at age 82. I haven't seen him in several years except to say hello while passing on the street. Still, I'll miss him. Another one is Harold. I saw him just this morning at the credit union. We talked a few minutes and then went on our way. He and I started teaching the same year and he became the superintendent. We sometimes differed on policy, but always remained friends. I guess Harold is about 65 now. I hope he lives longer than Jim did.
Howard