A mention of Doris Kissman is past due. I met her at Tryon Estates when she decided she had time to continue piano lessons and bought a cheap little excuse for a piano.

After I tuned it for her, she decided it sounded “tinny” and wondered whether I could improve its tone. I tried, but failed. I sent her to a colleague in Spartanburg, who sold her a “real piano.”

Here is what I wrote in her guest book at McFarland’s: “Doris was, as we say around here, a piece of work, a character. I tuned her piano often and she was a frequent shopper in our yarn shop in Columbus some years back.

After we got on our medications, I called her my favorite drunk, as I would keep her from falling as she swayed while we talked. I don’t think her caregiver ever got used to me, but Doris did. Loved her impish smile as she gave as good as she got in our repartee. What a delightful little lady!”

As you see, I still remember Louise and Doris. For most folks, there is a lot more to remember than can be put in a short column. Louise’s daughter, Mary, took her away from Tryon to care for her in her declining years, but I kept up with her through her son, Rick.

Rick is one acorn that did not fall far from the giant oaks that were his parents. May their tribe increase, to round out the clichés as words fail me to describe people who have so blessed me as friends.