Red and I flew into San Jose, rented a car and drove up into the Santa Cruz mountains for her mother's memorial service. We got there a day early to help Red's sister prepare for the service. They didn't have a Priest scheduled so I wondered how this celebration would go. The old lady had nick-knacks to the point of clutter. She wanted all her friends to take anything they wanted as token of friendship. I found a giant card table perhaps ten feet long and three and a half feet wide. I sat it up on the front patio and loaded it with the old lady's treasures from off the cabinets, off the walls and hanging from the window jams. The front patio was covered with paver stones and I sat up chairs, benches and patio furniture for the guests. No one knew how many people would drop by. We had the Italian restaurant, down the hill, cater for 40 people. My sister-in-law told me to make sure all the nick-knacks were given away or I would have to haul them all back into the house at the end of the service. I was motivated. When the caters came I gave them each a gift. The first guests arrived at 2:00 and they loaded three large paper grocery bags with nick-knacks. I felt we were off to a fine start. I had more inventory inside the house. As the guests arrived I realized that most of the guests didn't know each other and were connected only by the old lady. More people came and I could see the old lady had made good choices in her friendships. I tried to greet each guest, introduce them to the nick-knack table, get them something to eat and find them a chair. One woman came and brought a son who I later was told had Williams syndrome. His name was Stephen and he was happy like a puppy and loving. He loved the women that were receptive and bounced around between guests. He came up to me and starting talking and called me Uncle Joe. I like Stephen right off the bat. I found out later that his mom was 15 years old and with us when we broke down in Winnemucca, in the early 70's. She remembered the trip well. I was getting a plate of food for a woman name Marie when a younger woman, a recent arrival, tried to walk past me and stumbled on the paver stones. She caught herself and turned beet red. She had exceptionally long, curly blonde hair. She had a comfortable looking shape and dressed like a Bohemian. Her name was Buttons. I told her to come with me. I took her over and got her a plate of food and when she took it I asked her if she was shy. Yes, she was. She knew very few of the guests. Most of the honored guests were old friends, family, people who had worked for the old lady like house keepers or medical people, and hospice people. Buttons was her hair dresser. I told her to stick with me and she would be fine. I worked her as an apprentice. She greeted guests, worked the nick-knack table and made sure everyone got enough to eat. I had been watching the Quans next door. They had been friends of the old lady for probably 40 years and I knew they were invited, but yet they did not come over. I got Buttons and went next door to get the Quans. They were warm and receptive and Buttons took right to them. One of the daughters was saying she was a new grandmother. I asked her how old she was. Wham: Buttons gave me an elbow in the ribs. I knew Buttons was going to be fine. We all went back next door just in time for the toasts and stories about the old lady. Even Stephen told a story. It was a fine send off and I was impressed at how well the old lady had raised her kids and chosen her friends. Life is good.