Stories by Joy

April 11 2024

The people here are great, eh?

Isn’t it fascinating how little of a connection we need to become friends with people? This story begins with my new Canadian friends. Myrna, I met at pool volleyball at Outdoor Resorts at Long Key, Florida (ORLK). A couple of days later, when I arrived at the St. Patty’s Day party, she invited me to sit with her. She grabbed a chair for me and introduced me to her husband, Ernie, her cousin Anita, and Anita’s husband, Tom, all from Ontario. I told them I visited Ontario on my first trip in my motorhome and that my dad had relatives there.

When I said I could remember Tom’s name because that was my brother’s name, Tom said, “and he’s your favorite brother, right?”

I said, “yes that’s what I tell him all the time.”

Then, of course, Tom said, “he’s your only brother, right?”

Somehow, in all the laughter, Tom became my “other favorite brother” and the other three became my “Canadian cousins.” After the usual questions of where are you from, when did you get here, what’s your story, and how did you find out about Outdoor Resorts?, Anita said, “the people here are great, eh?” I had to agree! My new cousins got me dancing (I don’t dance) and we exchanged pictures and phone numbers. They showed me a great time at the party. After that, we saw each other nearly every day, playing volleyball, ping-pong, bocce ball, pickleball, and even went to a play together at the Marathon Community Theater. We also enjoyed sunset chats and neighborhood walks until the night before they left.

Another friend I met at pool volleyball is Sheila. Sheila is Beautiful with a capital B, inside and out. She is from Michigan, so having been born in Michigan myself, it was an instant connection. Despite enduring the recent tragic deaths of three loved ones, Sheila maintains a cheery, infectious disposition. Everyone loves her. Sheila went home to snow a few days later, but we will certainly stay connected.

When I met Dave, he looked at me and said, “You need to know, I’m legally blind, so if the volleyball comes to us, go ahead and hit it. Don’t assume I’m going to see it.”

Dave told me he is from Bloomington, Indiana. Because I got a master’s degree from Indiana University, Bloomington, I knew we would be friends. One day I stopped at Dave’s lot, and we talked about writing, riding, his eyes, ownership at Outdoor Resorts, family, you name it. He and his wife, Sally, took me to church on Easter Sunday. They introduced me to Pastor Brad, who baptized me in the canal of the Atlantic by the church the next week. Such special people!

Everyone I have met at ORLK has been over-the-top friendly. Even though some have wintered here for 5, 10, 20, or even 30 years, they have included me as one of their own. Snowbirds could be cliquish, but they are the opposite, as they welcome everyone.

Thanks to Ray (A Ray Of Sunshine) for inviting me to Outdoor Resorts; I have a park full of new friends. As I prepare to leave, two weeks after my original departure date, I say a big thank you to all who made my stay so special. Because of you, not only do I not want to leave, but you also have me seriously considering coming back. You are truly special people.

Yes, Anita, I must agree, the people at ORLK are great! Beautiful inside and out, eh? (PS, I know you told me Canadians never write out that word, but it’s my new favorite word. It will take me a while to learn when and how to use it. Maybe I can get some personal coaching on Canadian speak when I come visit you via Indiana and Michigan, eh?)

March 31 2024

Eternal Hope

As I watched the sunrise on the beach this Easter morning, the rising of the Son and the story of the empty tomb gave way to the concept of new beginnings. March 31 is the 91^st day of the year and marks the end of the first quarter of 2024. It’s also the day many of my new snow-bird friends, including Ray, are heading home refreshed and ready to start anew. Some think of Easter as the beginning of spring, which spurs a fresh outlook on life—new hope.

Looking back, are you where you had hoped you would be three months ago? In my New Year’s post, One Word, I encouraged you to pick one word to focus on for the year. If you picked a word for 2024, today is the time to reflect. I’ve also mentioned setting goals in the areas of career, finance, relationships, health, and fun, as suggested by Jon Acuff. April 1^st marks the day to review or renew your goals, promises to yourself and others. This day is a chance to take pride in your accomplishments and commit to staying the course, or an opportunity to start again. In March Madness terms, it’s the end of the first quarter. The score at the end of the first quarter or even the half may or may not reflect the final score. There is always hope that one team can turn it around or the other can keep the streak going.

In the Starters Day blog I posted on MLK Day, I encouraged you to either keep going or to start again. If your word was “organize,” and you planned to clean out the closets, drawers, and garage, but life has gotten in the way, it’s not too late. You can still get it done in the remaining nine months. Hoping to lose weight and it seems you’ve found a few extra pounds? Start again. If your goal in January was to read through the Bible in 2024, you should be through the first five books of the Old Testament and the first four books of the New Testament (or the equivalent). Not finished with Genesis and Mathew? You can resolve to double up on your reading, or more realistically, maybe you change the one-year goal to a two-year goal. If your aim is to run a Marathon on Thanksgiving Day, and you aren’t running a 5K yet, does that mean you quit? By no means! You can always adjust your training plan. April 1^st is the day to reevaluate your goals, not quit them. Don’t quit. Never quit if it is a legitimate goal.

Entrepreneur, author, and motivational speaker, Jim Rohn, taught that “everything affects everything.” Successful people start by doing something, and it’s best to start the minute we read or hear about a new idea. If we wait until tomorrow or next week, the passion may no longer be there.

Jim would say one positive habit affects other aspects of our lives. Get your health in check and your relationships improve. When your relationships improve, your business grows. When your business grows, you have more money to give away. Giving makes your heart feel good. And when your heart feels good, there is no telling what you can accomplish.

So, whether you picked a focus word for the year, or set goals in five areas like Jon Acuff suggests, know that everything you do connects with everything you do. Whether you have been consistently plugging away since the first of the year or have allowed distractions to get in your way like me (i.e., pool volleyball, cornhole, and sunset chats) make today a new day. Focus on something as small as eating one apple a day, or as big as writing about riding your bike in all 50 states, but let’s stay focused together.

Everything you do matters. Won’t it be exciting to see where our consistent steps get us by day 183 and then again on New Year’s Eve, 2024? May we all have hope for the future as we reflect on our past. It’s not too late. It’s just the end of the first quarter. Let’s keep the hope going together.

I’d love to hear how things are going for you. Please email me or comment below.

March 21 2024

Living the Life Part II: A Cycling Experiment

It’s an experiment. I’m hoping to break the record for the most days riding on the Overseas Highway without getting hit from behind or while darting across the highway to go the other direction. In the Keys, there is only one road to ride, only two directions to head. Trying to keep my rides to under an hour, I ride into the wind for 30 minutes, cross the highway and ride back to the resort where I am staying. But there is more to it than that.

The bike path is more of a walking path. It is on one side of Highway 1 and perfectly paved until it is not. Cyclists can ride for nearly ¼ mile sometimes on pavement before finding themselves at a barricade, in gravel, or looking at a no-outlet sign. The path is often too narrow for cyclists to pass without one riding into the grass, and too rough for skinny road bike tires.

The highway, on the other hand, offers crushed glass, tire chunks, car bumpers and headlights, and plenty of tire-puncturing threatening bottle caps. In addition, riders get the width of handlebars on the side of the road in which motorists do not slow down or move over, according to the nonverbal agreement motorists have amongst each other. Because there is a bike path along 30% of the stretch between Key Largo and Key West, motorists seem to believe cyclists should not be riding on their road. The bridges, and yes, there are many of them, are worse. Gravel and debris fill the space between the wall and the white line, leaving cyclists with mere inches to ride next to the traffic.

The joints in the bridges resemble shark’s teeth with an overbite; they pose a puncture risk to any tire attempting to cross. The teeth would cause a puncture at any speed if hit precisely at the sharpest point of the triangle, yet I’m compelled to cross the bridges at a much slower pace for fear of the teeth tearing into my tires and causing not just a blowout, but a subsequent crash because of the tire explosion. If I lose control of my bike as my tire explodes, it seems it would be a softer landing if I’m pedaling at 10 mph rather than 30 mph. No matter the speed, though, I would certainly be squashed by a trash truck, so the injuries caused by the fall would be inconsequential.

On either the bike path or the highway, I frequently brake for iguanas like I would brake for squirrels on a trail in Michigan. Some, I note, are as big as squirrels, and when motivated by fast moving wheels, most can zip across the highway almost as fast. Yet, the highway is busy with nary a long enough break for the fellas to scurry across safely. Unfortunate geckos, lizards, and iguanas litter the pavement like opossums, squirrels, and racoons on northern roads.

Every few miles, I am confronted with the decision to ride either the highway or the path. The bridges require the most thought. Do I ride the road and risk getting hit, or obtaining a flat from broken glass or crushed car parts? Or do I take the pathway, which sometimes requires crossing the highway, and then dodge fishing hooks, fish heads, beer cans, and trash in addition to the fishermen lining the wall on either side?

Fishermen are a story of their own. Some wear sun-protective clothing from head to toe, including their faces, and some have burns on their calves so red it makes my eyes bloodshot to look at them. The amateurs will certainly not be sleeping tonight or fishing again tomorrow.

I’ve digressed. What I am trying to say is that while I am living the dream of riding my bike in the Florida Keys, I didn’t expect it to be such a challenge with so many decisions. Before I arrived, I dreamed of riding along a clean, paved path, looking at the crystal-clear water on either side. Instead, I ride with my head down, eyes wide open, hoping to survive another day of cycling in the Keys. No need to send your sympathy my way. I know I am living the life! If I don’t break the record, though, at least you will know I died happy.

March 14 2024

Living the Life

Most people, when they hear about my travels, about how I’m riding my bike in every state, traveling in my motorhome, etc. they say things like, “Wow, you are living the life.” And to that, I must agree. However, what you rarely hear me talk about, if ever, are the fun times like getting flat tires on my bike, my rig’s endless water heater and battery issues, and the joys of laundry on the road.

Typically, when I’m on the road, I wait until I have three loads of laundry and drive my tiny house to a laundromat on the way to my next stop and get it all done in about an hour and a half. Sometimes I’ll do a load or two at a friend’s or a family member’s house. Until this trip to the Florida Keys, I’ve never stayed longer than a week in one spot. Conveniently, the resort where I’m staying has multiple laundry rooms. Because I’m the only poor soul without a golf cart and my errands bike had a flat tire, I planned to do just one load on Friday night. Yes, Friday night when neighbors are out partying, I’m doing laundry.

Earlier in the week, I noticed each machine was $3.25. After rounding up 26 quarters, I walked to the closest laundry room. I noticed it takes a card, not quarters, so back to my tiny house I trudged. Grabbing a credit card, a few bills for added security and my laptop, I walked to the bigger laundromat further from my lot. While the laundry was going, I’d slip into the nearby library to check email.

Following a ½ mile walk, I was loading my clothes into an empty machine in an empty laundromat. Once loaded, it would not take my credit card. After transferring everything to machine #2, machine #2 would not take my credit card either. When I called the number on the wall for repairs, I got no answer. Knowing there had to be a trick to get the card reader to take my card, I called again. Still no answer.

Frustrated, I left my laundry and walked to the activity room next to the library. Six people were playing a board game, and I interrupted with a question. “Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but have any of you ever used the washers and dryers here? I can’t get my credit card to work. Is there some kind of trick?”

“Yes, the trick is there’s a special card to use just for the machines.” They laughed. “You have to go to the rec room, the one with the ping-pong table, and buy a card from the machine there.”

Fortunately, I had a $20, a $5, and a $1 in my pocket. When I put the $20 in the machine, it flashed “wrong bill.” The five-dollar bill caused the machine to spit out a card and showed a $3 balance. Once I added my $20, the balance showed $25. Woo Hoo! Maybe I could do a load after all.

Back in the laundry room, I got the washing machine started with the card. My friend Janice called. We talked as I walked my computer back to my tiny house so I wouldn’t have to carry the computer plus a sack of clothes. As I approached the laundry room at 10:10, the security girl, Gina, pulled up on her golf cart to lock the doors. I yelled to her that I needed to pull my clothes out. Throwing them in the bag, I thanked her profusely for giving me a few extra minutes and walked to my tiny house with Janice laughing in my ear and my three-hour laundry ordeal behind me.

Yes, I’m living the life, but sometimes life on the road isn’t all perfect sunrises and sunsets—like when you learn that the word card doesn’t mean what you thought it did. But still, I’m in Florida in March. What’s not to love about that? Yes, I am living the life!

March 8 2024

A Ray of Sunshine

We’ve been friends since the moment we connected on a beach somewhere between Galilee and Jerusalem in the summer of 2021. His name is Ray. Smart. Tall. Dark. Handsome. Single again.

When I told him about my dream to ride in 50 states, he encouraged me to go where my heart led me. “Follow your dreams,” he said. Being from Connecticut, he was familiar with Galilee and Jerusalem, Rhode Island. He gave me directions to a lighthouse and suggestions on where to camp in my motorhome.

Since I started writing Finding Joy, my memoir about riding my bike in every state, which includes the people I meet, the places I visit, and the challenges I overcome as I travel in my RV, he has supported me 100%. He supports me by reading my blogs and the articles I have written for Calhoun Magazine and posting comments on my Facebook page. He will be in my second book, where I will write about my adventures on the east coast.

Ray texted, called, and emailed regularly for 2 ½ years. This past fall he invited me to come visit him in the sunshine state, where he often winters.

When January rolled around, Ray and I talked more seriously about making such a visit happen. He measured his driveway. I sent him all manner of measurements of my motorhome. When it was clear the driveway wasn’t going to work, we talked about a nearby $6.00 a night parking spot, and then state parks within 30 miles. No dice on the parking lot and no vacancies at the state parks. We kept at it—discussing options every few days until finally I secured a site for an entire month in his same complex.

After a week of driving, visiting friends on the gulf, and a night in the Everglades, I arrived in Long Key on March 1st. Ray met me at the gate to the complex and escorted me to my site via a golf cart as though he were the owner of a KOA. Within the hour, Ray took his daughter and me to dinner at an outdoor bar and grill with live music. He picked up the check.

On Saturday, Ray gave me the royal tour of the resort, complete with a visit to the gym, the pool, and the library. Because I could not get a Wi-Fi connection at my site or the library, Ray invited me to his place so I could send a few emails. While distracted by emails, I heard Ray talking to his television. “ESPN. ESPN 2. Women’s basketball.” When I looked up, he and his daughter were watching a women’s U Conn basketball game. I discovered he keeps up with college and pro ball, especially the women. And by “keeps up with” I mean he goes to games, and he knows the players, their stats, rankings, schedules . . . everything.

Sunday, he took us to Key Colony Beach Days, a festival with live music, food and 60 vendors. We watched more women’s basketball Sunday night before discussing our plans for the week/month. He wants to support me as I make time to write and ride my bike. Monday I would ride and join him and his daughter at the pool before the men’s basketball games start on TV. Tuesday: poker plus an RV repair appointment and shopping. Wednesday: a cornhole tournament. Thursday: The No Name Pub plus deer and alligator hunting. Friday: Sombrero Beach. Saturday: another festival. Sunday . . .

Then before another daughter comes to celebrate his birthday on March 27^th with a boat tour and train ride in Key West, we have to fit in golf, fishing, a nautical flea market, a seafood festival, a sea turtle hospital and a dolphin research center, the Butterfly Building in Key West, a movie, the Hemingway House, a boat ride to Dry Tortugas National Park, a play at the Marathon Community Theater, and as many days at the beach and pool as we can fit in. On top of this, I am supposed to write and ride my bike six days a week? This man is going to wear me out! Next year, he plans to go skydiving for his birthday . . . his 95^th.

I think I’m going to be busy that day.

February 21 2024

From the Competitive World to the Cooperative World

I spent the better part of my physical education teaching career fighting against the competitive nature of sports and fitness. In my classes, children learned cooperative games and activities which still had a competitive aspect but focused on teamwork. For example, partners might count how many times they could hit a ball back and forth, or how many passes they could complete in thirty seconds. Students played small group games such as 2-player kickball, or 2-on-2 soccer. There was no “standing around” waiting for a turn in my gym. My philosophy was that if children learn by doing, then they need to be doing.

In class, I taught students games they could play at home or at recess to improve individual skills, but the concept did not resonate with many of them. My students rarely played the games I taught them outside of my class. It felt like a losing battle. The world teaches us to be competitive even in non-competitive tasks. Who can read the most books? How fast can you recite your times tables? Who is the best speller in your school? Don’t just play the trumpet, be first chair.

Now that I have begun a second career as a writer, I believe I have found my niche. Writers support writers! Last weekend I attended the Georgia Writers Museum Writers Retreat in Eatonton, Georgia and you could not find a more diverse group. Attendees and presenters came from all walks of life. In attendance were more women than men, more Baby Boomers than Gen Zers, more fiction novelists than non-fiction writers, and more experienced writers than newbies and every one of them was there to learn, encourage, help, and teach, for the weekend and beyond. Lou Benjamin, co-founder, and current president of the Georgia Writers Museum said he’s never encountered a more supportive group of people than writers.

On my way to the retreat, I received the book Boys in the Boat, by New York Times bestselling author, Daniel James Brown, from Bob at The Crazy Book Lady Bookstore, where the owner, Stacey, shows her support of local writers with a collection of area writer’s books displayed prominently for all patrons to see. There is no finite number of successful writers. We know most of us will never achieve Nora Roberts, Stephen King, James Patterson, or J. K. Rowling’s status, but the success of my fellow writers does not mean I cannot succeed too. In the writer’s world, there is always room for one more book on the shelf.

Once home, I emailed a few presenters, thanking them for their time and information. Every single one of them responded within hours with more encouragement and a promise to help me in any way they can. Writers make me proud to be one of them. If somehow, in the algorithms of the world wide web, I can repay them, I want to express my gratitude to the writers I had the privilege of learning from last weekend. Thank you to these writers who have embraced me in their cooperative world—a world where everyone can be a winner. Please check out their sites.

Keynote Speakers:

Joshilyn Jackson, www.joshilynjackson.com

Love Hudson-Maggio, www.lovehudsonmaggio.com

Jennifer Moorman, www.jennifermoorman.com

Presenters:

Kristine Anderson, Crooked Truth, www.kristinefanderson.com

Beverly J. Armento, Seeing Eye Girl: A Memoir of Madness, Resilience, and Hope www.beverlyarmentoauthor.com

Chip R. Bell, Inside Your Customer’s Imagination plus 23 other books on creating innovative customer experiences www.chipbell.com

Melinda Farris, first novel almost ready for publication, www.melindasfarris.com

Rona Simmons, A Gathering of Men and The Other Veterans of World War II: Stories from Behind the Front Lines www.ronasimmons.com

Samantha Sorelle, The Gentleman’s Gentleman and five other M/M historical romances www.samanthasorelle.com

Friends:

Millicent Flake, Moving Beyond: Journeying Through Life’s Changes www.underthemagnoliatree.com

Ann F. Beach, MD, ready for publication, Sick Kids: Solving Medical Mysteries in Children (50 true stories of pediatric patients who arrived at the hospital with one diagnosis, and went home with another) www.annfbeach.com

Editor: Mari Ann Stefanelli www.thewritershigh.com What have you experienced in your line of work? Do you see more competition or cooperation? Please scroll down to comment.

February 8 2024

I Can’t

“3 am is the hour of writers, painters, poets, musicians, silence seekers, overthinkers and creative people.

We know who you are. We can see your light on. Keep on keeping on.”

Author Unknown

We teach children to never say the words, “I can’t.” Do we ever reach an age where we are allowed to say those words? Because, frankly, I think I have earned the right.

I have been working on my first book for two years now. Finding Joy is almost ready for an editor, but I have been editing it for so long, a few friends have said, “Oh, I thought you already finished that book.”

Since my Consistency post, I have written almost every day. My intent was to write in the morning every day, so that if something else took my time later in the day, I would have already completed my most important task. Although I have had periods of success with writing in the morning, I have yet to make it a habit and I doubt my ability to make it as a morning writer. Like an alcoholic who wants to quit drinking, I long to be a morning person, but I just can’t make that happen.

As the youngest in my family, I never wanted to go to bed for fear of missing out on something. Back then, I didn’t know FOMO (fear of missing out) would become a psychological condition and I would be the poster child. Not having a bedtime wasn’t a problem until I turned five and had to wake early for school with the rest of the family.

Most nights from age 5-18 I stayed up with Dad to watch the 11:00 news and Johnny Carson. For you Baby Boomers, we often watched through the end of the National Anthem until we saw the snow—the official “time to go to bed” signal. Not surprisingly, I struggled to stay awake in school. Sometimes in high school, I skipped Johnny to study for a test or write a paper. In college, I hung out with my suite mates until they went to bed and then I would sit in the quiet hallway to study or write a paper.

When did I work on my dissertation? You guessed it. Research and writing happened late at night. By 10:00, I would plunge into hyper-focus and write with vigor, counting the hours before time for work. Nearly every paper—including my dissertation—I wrote in the wee hours. Now, as I type, my mantle clock just struck two times, and the sun is not shining through my windows.

Five months ago, I cut out sugar and caffeine. I thought that would fix me. On and off for years, I unabashedly used caffeine as a sleep substitute. Not consuming caffeine and sugar, I thought, would allow me to sleep better and finally get myself on a schedule like normal people. So far, it hasn’t worked. When I set the alarm and wake before my body says it’s had enough sleep, I don’t sleep well because I know the alarm is about to startle me awake and then I nod off in front of my computer. My mother told me and now studies have affirmed her wisdom by proving we get our best sleep from 10pm to 2am, yet that seems to be my natural writing time.

Last fall I read the book Miracle Morning for Writers by Hal Elrod, Steve Scott, and Honoree Corder—twice! The authors recommend setting an alarm, keeping a consistent schedule, and writing first thing in the morning. They suggest first to splash water on your face, brush your teeth, drink water and coffee—if you drink coffee—exercise, shower and then write while you are fresh. Authors Jerry Jenkins and Stephen King suggest similar routines. Jerry says he usually checks his email before he writes so he can then focus on his writing. Now, if I exercise, shower, and check email before I write, I’m ready to eat, which makes me sleepy. My morning writing routine promptly goes out the window.In If You Give a Mouse a Cookie by Laura Numeroff, I’m the mouse.

I am like an addict who still believes she can drink like normal people. The age-old definition of stupidity rings in my head: “continuing to do what you’ve always done, expecting different results.” Is it possible for me to become a morning writer without going back to an alarm and caffeine and sugar? Or after over 50 years of trying, am I allowed to say, “I can’t?”

Do you have a similar struggle? Please scroll down and share below.

January 25 2024

George

In the summer of 2019, I was riding my bike on a bike path in Austin, Minnesota. I had only gotten lost twice before I passed a white-haired gentleman on a three-speed trike, stopped at the foot of a slope. I made a U-turn and asked if he needed help. The man said he could not change gears. He dismounted, and I rode his bike down the hill to change into an easier gear. A push up the hill gave him momentum to keep the pedals turning.

We exchanged names and “good days” and rode in opposite directions. After ¼ mile, I turned back. Sure enough, he needed another push. Riding alongside him, I pushed my new friend up the hills of Austin for the next twenty minutes. We chatted as we pedaled. George said he loved Austin—told me he never wanted to live anywhere else. He said he used to play tennis and told me he knew Jan, the owner of Rydjor Bike Shop, where I had just taken my bike for a brake adjustment.

As we rode up to a massive three-story white brick building, George thanked me for helping him get back home. My mouth dropped open when I read the massive sign in front. It said, “Cedars Senior Living Community, A Place to Call Home.” George lived in an assisted living/nursing home.

George and I chained up his bike, walked through the dimly lit garage, and slipped into an unlocked back door. He plopped into a cozy, orange tweed chair in a sitting area outside the dining room, wiped his brow and gulped a glass of water. As we sat together, George shared his story with me.

“You know, this building we’re in was originally a hotel. My wife and I stayed here on our honeymoon. It was the nicest place in town then. This is where we began our lives together . . . and my dear bride took her last breath here in December, a week before Christmas. We moved here last summer when I could not take care of her by myself anymore. It’s been hard, but I’m thankful I was here with her, holding her hand when she passed. I miss her, but I know she’s in a better place.”

Nodding, I told George I hated to go. We hugged, took a couple of selfies, and said goodbye. My heart ached.

His head dropped as I turned to walk away. I could have and should have stayed to listen to more stories—sat and held his hand a little longer. I think of George often. How he had gotten so far from home, I will never know, and I still wonder what he would have done had I not been riding by.

Months later, when I looked back at my photos, I realized George’s story might not be entirely true. The building where he lived did not look that old. I looked at the website and learned The Cedars Senior Living Community building was only 30 years old. Disappointed, I realized George must have been mistaken about him and his bride staying in the same building for their honeymoon. It made for a sweet story, though.

However . . . upon further investigation, I discovered they built the new assisted living addition to connect to the old motel in town. What used to be the Red Cedar Inn has become the memory care unit of The Cedars. George’s story was true!

George died at The Cedars last year. I thought you should know the world lost a good man. Rest in peace, George. Rest in peace. Is there someone in your past you wish you had spent a little more time with? Please scroll down and share below.