This is the one where I call my high school friend Debbie for the first time in 30 years. She grew up living above the funeral home her family owned. This clearly makes her an expert on death, which is why I chose this article for our discussion, "What Really Happens to Us As We Are Dying?"

Debbie’s pretty much the best. She was then and she is now. She was voted Class Clown and Most Athletic. True and deserved. Also, prom queen and homecoming queen. Beloved by all. She was the equipment manager for the football team and the VP of Varsity Choir.

Our high school was smallish so everyone had to pitch in where they could so we could make the most of sports, arts, and clubs available. One year, the kicker for the football team marched with the band at halftime. It didn’t leave as much room for folks to choose a lane and stay in it out of fear they’d loose the one identity they’d managed to scrabble together (AKA unlike most 80s movies, though the clothes were the same). Plus, there wasn’t much else to do. Small towns. Small high school. Network TV. We played sports, danced and sang in show choir, and drove too fast going over the train tracks hoping to “catch some air.”