Reading obituaries is the ultimate in traveling through time and space.
Every once in a while, I get the sudden urge to check on whether someone I knew long ago is still alive. It usually doesn't end well. For example, when I planned to visit Arkansas (where I lived almost 30 years ago, and had never been back) I looked up several people not long before I was planning to leave - my first boss, my two next door neighbors, and found out they had all died in the past several months.
Well, back in March I published a post about Sid Hashian, the drummer of the rock band Boston on their first two albums. I talked about a then-young man who had introduced my spouse and I to the band in 1977.
I had to know if he was still alive. Bad habit. I knew that another young man who was a mutual friend of ours had died several years ago. A part of me wanted to know if the friend we had lost track of years ago was still around, and a part of me didn't.
When I did an Internet search, I didn't find the ex-friend's obit. But I did find his father's. And, if you ask why that is significant, it is because his father's obituary brought back the memory of a good man, a man I only met once, but a man whose memory had stuck in my mind ever since.
That memory stuck enough that I wrote about our friend's father in my Veteran's Day post on November 11, 2009. And now I know the answer to the question I asked at the end of the post, where I wondered if that veteran tormented by his war service had found peace.
In 2015, he finally did.
Rest in peace.
Not all travels have happy endings.