It was a weekend of reunions. Saturday night was Wendy’s high school reunion in Albia, so we headed down there to have dinner with four of her best friends from high school and then to the reunion at Albia’s rockin’ Knights of Columbus Hall. I did a lot of shaking hands, smiling and saying "Hi. Nice to meet you." It was fun, though. I really enjoyed meeting Wendy’s gang and hearing some of their exploits, which I will not print here in an effort to maintain marital bliss.

Sunday I got a call from Dad Vander Well telling me that our old neighbor, Nancy Borg, had passed away after a long fight with cancer. Nancy’s son, Scott, is my oldest friend. We’ve been friends since I was somewhere around 4 or 5 years old and we’ve shared a lot of life’s journey together – both together and from a distance. We grew up in a time and place where there were truly neighborhoods. The kids from the block played together, families talked to each other and looked out for each others’ children. Scott and I played a lot of kick-the-can, back yard football and driveway basketball. We learned to pop "wheelies" together on our Schwinn Sting-Ray five-speeds. We spent many hours sitting in the front yard talking about life.

When Wendy and I went to the visitation last night it was like a neighborhood reunion. I got to see people that I hadn’t seen for years, and many of them remember me only as "little Tommy Vander Well". As is always true with Scott and me, it seemed like we picked up right where we left off, though it’s been five or six years since we last saw each other. It’s a good thing to have life-long companions on the journey.

By the way, Scott shared that his mother got her wish. She died in her home, her husband in bed with her, his arms around her, and her children gathered around the bed.

We should all be so blessed to leave this life that way.