This man taught Sociology, Anthropology, and Cultural Anthropology, where I work. Although he had, at times, a disposition, that did not endear him to some of his colleagues, there were many of them, who made it their business to invite him to social functions, outside the college. He would do the same in return. As for me, in an office support position, he and I had an odd relationship. Our favorite thing to do was shoot rubberbands at each other. Childish, yes, but we aimed safely. Rubber bands were not only shot, but the purchase of huge ones spanned our chairs, or disabled the opening of certain doors. You had to be there, but everyone knew about our rubberband battles. Finally, it was almost time for him to retire. He had always been a "skin-flint" (extreme frugality) so he was leaving to embark on a new job, and lots of funds to make his retirement enjoyable. His wife retired, not long after he did. Before he left, his favorite thing to say to me was "You're gonna miss me when I'm gone." I would retort, "No, you're gonna miss me!" Back and forth we'd go. He'd be back to visit surely. His son and I were friends too. A sweet kid that is now, such a wonderful and handsome young man. Prof.'s wife called one morning after he had retired. The new,other secretary answered the telephone to take her call. She could not talk to me, she said. She knew her husband and I were long time friends. The message was, that he had died suddenly over the weekend! I was stunned. I thought about his final words to me, that I had taken for granted the years before, and the one after his retirement. Eventually, I found out he was an extraordinary pipe organist. What a revelation, I thought. But, he never knew I had any artistic ability, either. Even after all those years. If I could, I would tell him. If I could, I would tell him this, too. "Doug, you were right, afterall." "You are missed."