Journaling reads: You sat behind me in band. I was a trumpet player, you were a tuba player, a year older than me. You were always so nice to the geeky trumpet player in front of you and I had the biggest crush. You were so sweet. After high school you joined the Army and were a helicopter pilot in Vietnam. I’ve lived life, some good, some not so good, I’ve grown older, but you didn’t get the chance.