Dear Marshall, I remember your mother well, as a kind and loving parent who gave you the support you needed back in those gawky, unsure teenage days. (Gawky? Of course, gawky -- it's a perfect word to describe all of us who suddenly shot up to become awkward six-footers trapped in little 14-year-old-kid bodies. And your mom understood that.) You and your siblings were blessed to have her love and wisdom with you for more than nine decades. Sadly, my mom didn't quite finish her sixth decade, dying of an unexpected heart attack at age 59, still months away from her 60th birthday. I've often thought how I would have liked -- as a 40-, 50-, 60- and even 70-year-old son -- to have pulled up a chair at her kitchen table for an intimate talk about her thoughts, feelings, concerns, and memories from long ago. You are fortunate to have had so many of those opportunities. I envy you that wealth of warm remembrances. My heart is with you, Marshall. God bless your mom. With my deepest sympathy and love, John