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"Sam, you've received an interesting piece of mail this morning," Jane, my sixty-five year old office manager said to me as I sat at my desk that morning with a cup of coffee in my hand. Each morning around ten o'clock, Jane delivered the mail to my office after she scanned the contents of each envelope. This way, she had an opportunity to ditch the junk mail and to present to me only those pieces of correspondence that truly mattered and which might bring in additional funds to my small private law firm. Jane laid the stack of mail in the center of my desk and tapped with her long index finger on the small envelope lying at the top of the pile. "It's this one, Sam, and I'd sure you'll be very interested in what it has to say." I took the already opened envelope, and slid the contents out and onto my hand. A small, white, square-shaped card lay in my palm, off-white in color with black engraving on one side. I scanned the writing on the card and realized it was an invitation to my fifteenth high school reunion to be held next week at our old school. I flipped the card over to see that I needed to respond quickly if I wished to attend. Jane was still hovering over my right shoulder, and when I turned my head to the right and upward, she looked down at me and asked, "You are going to the reunion, aren't you, Sam?" When I didn't respond, she placed her warm hand on my shoulder and said, "Sam, how could you not go? All your old friends you haven't seen in years will be there." I explained to Jane that I'd give the idea of going to the reunion some thought, which she knew was my way of telling her I had work to do and we could always discuss my going to the event or not later. Jane patted me on the ...

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