Looking out my Backdoor: Dear Havre Daily News

I have turned into my father and I don’t like it. When I lived in Washington, I used to almost dread Dad’s phone calls because they too frequently meant that somebody we knew, in the family or in the neighborhood, had died.

Every day I open the Havre Daily Homepage, ostensibly to see what is going on in my old neighborhood. But a not-so-teeny part of me can’t wait to scan down to the obituaries. I am always relieved when there are no names I recognize.

Just this week, out of seemingly nowhere, an old school friend popped into my head. Where did he come from? I hadn’t given him a thought in man...