for Jean Marie, and for Samuel Marquieth

She was the first I visited at Greenwich today.

Jean Marie Morgan would have been 38 years old on this date.

I made sure the dragonfly paver was cleared of leaves, then I placed five shells onto it.

That niece sure did love going to the beach, too, just as I do.

After, I sang "Happy Birthday" to her and took my leave to visit Mama.

That visit was cut short by rain, but not before I sang "The Trees of The Field" to her.

Then I went home and washed my car in the rain, after changing into shorts.

She even looks blue again without most of the oak pollen caked on, doesn't she?

After being outside with that task for about 40 minutes, I had to change clothes again.

Not so much because I was wet, but that the temperature had dropped 15 degrees F.

That meant it was time to stay inside and deal with the 15th anniversary of Sam's death.

I'd been in receipt of text messages since before my alarm went off from members of his family in Atlanta and in Virginia.

The first one had included the photo of my friend.

That was followed by someone who wrote: "May his spirit always rest in peace. Thank God for giving us a brother who brought us all laughter. To God be the Glory!!!!!"

I certainly know that sentiment well.

Then, in mid-afternoon, came remembrances of his tastes in food.

"I remember those thick peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

"Lord!! A jar of jelly!!"

"And they would be double-decker sandwiches!"

"Not one egg sandwich but 5!"

"And don't forget all the comic books!"

Very nice to have been included in all of that.

I just wish I knew who the phone numbers belonged to... and how they included me.

Now, I'm going to catch "Young Frankenstein" down at Club One.

Thomas Houston is in that musical and I feel the need to see him today.

He knew Sam Johnson, too.