Vicki

My dad called this morning to tell me that Vicki died.

Dad, like any respectable old coot, has made a habit of reading the obituaries. It's a good thing, too, because I wouldn't know anything about anything if he didn't keep me in the loop.

And Vicki? She was my 'cello teacher. For six years, I visited her little house on Atherton Road for my weekly lesson. Even counting the summer hiatis, that means I spent literally hundreds of hours with this woman. I hadn't thought about that before. Not until now.

Vicki was a music teacher in the public schools, and she taught private lessons in the evening at home. She was utterly jolly. She taught me so many things - not only about the 'cello, but about responsibility, confidence and doing what you love.

I liked playing the 'cello, but I didn't love it. I didn't practice four hours a day. Lord, some weeks I didn't practice at all. Vicki knew it. She didn't mind. She knew that I would learn valuable lessons from playing music, even if I wasn't a prodigy.

Vicki watched me grow from an awkward 11 year old girl to a full grown woman. The last time I saw her was at my senior recital in college. She hadn't RSVP'd. She wanted, she said, to surprise me.

Now, 10 years later, I learn that Vicki had colon cancer. She survived for six years - a terribly long time to have that disease. I understand that she was a guiding light for newly diagnosed patients, encouraging them through their early grief and helping them learn the ropes as they battled their cancer. I am not surprised.

Please visit Vicki's page at the American Cancer Society's Mosaic of Memories. It's a loving tribute to a beautiful lady.