Sweetie made friends with everyone. In New Jersey gas stations are required full-service and Sweetie usually had a conversation with the attendant if they weren't busy.  For many years the same man normally pumped our gas, a Sikh who worked here for 10 years, away from his family in India, in order to put his kids through college. He lived in a small trailer, walking distance from the station.  Sweetie knew not only his name but also his kids', one who was in med school and the other in law school. On his last day of work before he returned to his family, Sweetie gave him a card with best wishes and blessings, a picture of our family, and a material cash gift to recognize his decade-long sacrifice for his family. With Sweetie, there were no strangers.

Karen loved to embarrass me with this one whenever she had the chance.

There were several ponds near the farmhouse that I used to visit/fish on a regular basis as a kid.  One late evening as it neared dark I was walking back to the house down our dirt road.  Karen and Dad had been hiding in the woods near our driveway with a bunch of leaves piled on top of them, for who knows how long.  As I walked by, quite innocently and under no duress, they suddenly came out of the pile of leaves making a horrible growling/monster sound.  I made quite the Olympic showing in my sprint back to the house.