I knew you as a smart, beautiful baby.
I met you in August 1971, when I met your father, Sam Baldridge, and mother, who were friends of my boyfriend.
I left and came back to Texas in 1972.
Through a quirk of fate, I just found out your father died in 1999.
I named my third child Samuel, after your father.
When I knew him, your dad was such an honorable, lovely, brilliant and kindhearted person. He was a teaching assistant at Eastern Illinois, and an English major.
I know he was hard hit the year your grandfather and his only sister died.
We were never sweethearts--just friends, but I always admired him.
Is it possible to have a conversation about him?