My mother often talked about her best friend Rose, whom she went all through highschool with, graduating together in the class of 1940 from West Catholic High School in Philadelphia. When my parents married in 1944, Rose was her maid of honor. A few years later Rose moved to California and they corresponded for many years. Rose always remembered Mom’s wedding anniversary and sent a card. Rose was very thoughtful that way. Then one day, Mom sent a letter to Rose and it was returned to her with no forwarding address and that was the last she had ever heard from Rose. It was a mystery that haunted my mother for years. I even went so far as to help my mother find Rose by hiring a private detective and nothing ever turned up. I know my mother was worried about Rose and I think she felt a debt of gratitude toward her friend who had always been so good to her. Mom and Rose were friends during the Depression when no one had money except Rose, whose father was a doctor. Rose would often insist on treating my mother to a movie or a soda even though my mother declined profusely. “Rose was always good to me.” , Mom would say. Rose was a class act. She was gracious to my mother, who was much less fortunate than her and she taught my mother and me both the power of generosity and the value of good friends. I never met the woman, but she made an indelible impression on me. It is why to this day I cannot bear to lose contact with a friend and why I gave my second child Eva, the middle name Rose.