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I was raised in a fairly typical neighborhood of North Carolina. Mrs. Kathleen Herrmann lived at the end of the same street, just a few houses down from us in a large 2-story house that she and her husband owned. Their home was nestled back in the woods, with no neighbors in sight.

Mrs. Herrmann lived with her husband, Bob. They were married rather young and had a son, Aaron who was the same age as me and my best buddy. Because of that Aaron attended an out of state college, she had to occasionally ask my mom for permission to let me help her with all the house maintenance - yard work, painting and whatever else was needed as her husband was always busy with his job as a director of a manufacturing company. She was an expert gardener. Guests would often walk around her property to OOH! and AHH! over her flowers and shrubs. Most summer evenings and weekends, you could find her digging and planting in her garden.

Mrs. Herrmann was an excellent cook and hostess. She would often have friend gatherings at her house where we'd always have too much to eat. I remember those parties well because Mrs. Herrmann would always meet us at the door with a big smile and a big tight hug. As a child, I remember always immediately turning around to run away and making a face. Mrs. Herrmann would laugh at me and it kind of became a neighbor joke. I didn't know then that in a few years, I would come to relish those wonderful hugs. ...

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