Imet Natalie Carlson at a big Christmas party for my dad’s clinic. It was in a big house. Everyone was dressed up. I was 16.

There was a roaring fire, a big Christmas tree, and a basement where the younger kids could play pool.

During my 20s, I went through a nightclub phase. Hanging out in clubs, I encountered very few cheerful women with bright faces and plaid skirts.

Natalie was the daughter of one of my dad’s colleagues. She had long dark hair and wore a plaid skirt. My memory is that she was cheerful, smart, fun to talk to.

Since our fathers were both doctors, our lives were somewhat similar. We had a lot to talk about. We had other things in common as well. We were both good students. We were both looking forward to college.

A week later, at dinner, my parents informed me that a

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