September 13, 1996, my friend Jane gave me a postcard of Mister Rogers wearing his golden sweater. It hangs over my desk and whenever I look up, there he is. In the card she wrote, "It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Happy, Happy Birthday Valerie! Love, J." I really liked Jane. We lost touch over the years. She was very interesting. She was the editor for the Occupational Health & Safety line of books for the publisher I was working for at the time. 10 years my senior, I thought everything she did was cool. She believed in recycling everything, so much so that she owned a used clothing, jewelry and furniture store. Cool. When she went to Bali with her boyfriend she came back with a bad case of Malaria. Cool. When she went to her assistant's wedding to an FBI agent, she thought for sure they all knew her because of her various anti-estblishment activities and attitudes. Cool. She was an Italophile and an expert in Italian literature. Cool. I left that job for a better one as a direct mail marketing manager for a conferencing company and when I left she gave me a picture of Mother Jones's tombstone with a private inspiration thought. Cool. Sadly, I lost touch with her. In the last message she left me, she told me she married a police officer and was having a baby which was cool because well everything she did is cool. That child is probably 8 or 9 years old by now.
Jane. If you find this, I would love to hear from you.