He Made One Mistake   
    
   During a snowstorm in Montreal, Dick, my old high school buddy, came upon a man with a scarf down to his knees, jaywalking in front of his car. He stopped in time, rolled down the window and...

   The man was Ken Goldsmith, another classmate from our small Western Pennsylvania town. We and about 35 others went through 12 grades together. What are the chances those two would cross paths in Canada for no reason whatsoever? 

   Ken didn't have time to visit. He and fellow musicians were headed to rehearsal for their concert that night.

   After six decades as a chamber musician, soloist, concert master and teacher, he died last month in Houston. 

   Faithfully practicing his violin when he wasn't playing ball with us, Ken went on to win competitions all over. He performed in 40 states as a conductor or soloist. His violin took him to Europe, Asia, Mexico, Puerto Rico and Canada. 

   Ken also joined faculties at seven different universities. 

   So, what was his mistake? He couldn't attend our 30-year class reunion, so he sent a recording for background music. Unfortunately, our mundane conversations drowned out the entire gift. If we only knew. 

   I emailed Dick last week that I plan to outlive everyone, and elect myself class president. After all, I was the youngest, and still am.

   Dick replied, "Why wait? I'll vote for you." 

   Well, a competitive race would require a campaign manager, raising funds, ads, research and finding a slogan. A few classmates - "townees" - still live back home.

   But the majority would vote by mail, and I'm very concerned about voter fraud. 
I told Dick I would get back to him in a couple years. 

       Jimmy