Not my favorite subject, not at all. But I feel compelled to write something. So yesterday when I was strolling through the mall I get a Facebook messag
e from my sister. It was an obituary from my hometown, I didn't recognize the first name but the last name I did. It was the last name of my 5th grade teacher. 5th grade is a fog, but I do remember some things. My 5th grade teacher was funny, he loved the SF Giants, made me play sports and what I recall made us write in our journals. I don't really remember what I wrote, I am thinking I wrote about the guy who sat next to me in class. My class was a combination class, half our class were 6th graders. I always thought, it was great hanging out with the older crew. I ended up with friends that were older but like all most childhood friends, you part ways; the same way you part ways with those who teach you. My 5th grade teacher died of cancer and he was my mother's age, which is still very young. It is crazy to think all that life you remember is no longer here but in a memory. I got a lump in my throat walking through Fashion Valley last night. This I know, Mr. Donohue touched lives from early on, those are the moments that matter the most, a glimmer of inspiration. True hope. You will be missed.
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