"You should write to him."

Time did its usual run, and the demands of teenagehood required much attention. Occasionally, I noticed him, the teen who had become a man, sitting at the back left corner of the church.

It fell upon one year when we began to keep the same company. How that came to be, I know not. But alas, proximity did little to benefit, for two quiet people do not a conversation make. It did not help that this intellectual young man intimidated me to the point of overpowering muteness. I do recall, though, one conversation on haircuts.

Time continued to run, and the young man had to leave again for the seven seas. It was subtly brought to my attention that mermaids are not real and hence the young man was lonely. I was then encouraged to pick my pen - or in this case, my laptop, and inscribe something to him. The sources of such encouragement I shall not disclose, but should Mrs. Bennet have a Twitter account, she would have no few followers.

"But what can I write about?" I ask. What similar interests would a teen have with an adult? Records of past encounters confirmed my doubt to prospects of an acquaintance that would go past awkward.

Still I wrote. Just a short one, ending with, "Well I don't know what else to say."

It turned out that he wasn't as lonely as depicted, but being the nice friendly cute young man that he was (and still is!), he graciously obliged a reply.

And it then turned out that there was more, very much more to say. As Rick of Casablanca went, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

That was December 2005.