Opinion : Reading my mind: Goodbyes

The upside to getting older is getting older. The downside is the many, many goodbyes that you say. 

Part of my job is reporting the obituaries that come in. Each time you realize this was someone's father, mother, sister, brother, daughter, or son. Then at some point, it hits you. Eventually, you'll find me on this page. 

You begin to realize just how short life is. Many people older than I say, "It sounds like I'm old, but inside I'm still 20." But life keeps going. 

This week, many of us lost our art teacher. 33 years Mrs. Kettler taught. I have no idea how many art students a teacher teaches in a year, but there were a lot of us. I think we all have the same stories. She was sweet. She was kind, and she made us love art. She let us all know that we were the Picassos in the room, even though we weren't. She made art fun. She taught us how to be creative. She cheered on every effort we made to create the perfect piece of pottery. I think she probably had one of the most appreciated classes in school. The one that gave your mind a bit of a break while you just had some fun. 

It says a lot when a teacher that you had more than 45 years ago made such an impact on your life. I don't remember much about many of my teachers, but it seems like the ones that hit the creative bone in my body are the ones that stand out to me. 

We also lost Jim Morrison this week. I've known Jim for more than 20 years. More recently our paths crossed as we worked. The last time I believe it was at the Biden presidential stop. He wasn't doing well, and I knew it. The equipment that day was getting the best of him. I noticed that he didn't appear to be well. So I asked him if he needed to go and get something to eat and he did. We set his equipment out of the way so that he could run out for a bite before the event started. He came back and began telling about his experiences covering presidential events like the one we were at. He was the guy that was not afraid to be front and center to get a great shot. 

He spent many decades in darkrooms and bent over tables putting newspapers together. He wasn't known for his speed, but he did love his job.  I remember watching him cover a race here in town. My thought was, "I don't care how good the shot is, you won't find me standing at the edge of a race track snapping pictures!" But that's where Jim was. He loved his races.

He also loved persimmons. He talked about that fruit more than any other. It was tied to several festivals that he attended as a kid with his family. If you talked to Jim for very long, there was always a persimmon story. Of course, there were also racing stories about going home to Indiana for the Indianapolis 500 too.

If when you get to heaven, parts of your life get to be part of it, I suspect there is a new art room and smiling Mrs. Kettler. Outside might be a persimmon tree where a guy with a camera is seated enjoying a few, while he tells about his many trips to the Indianapolis 500. 

But for the rest of us, we have to wait a bit longer to catch up with them. But each of these lives will be part of a place in our hearts. Both will be missed even more by their families. But each was the kind of person that you hope to be when you grow up.