Early this morning as I was finishing the night's sleep I had a dream. In it Peter Jennings was walking on a platform or patio that I was on. He was wearing a photographer's vest and had a couple of camera lens sticking in the pockets. He had a camera in his hand. He was signaling to another man to come over because he wanted to do some close-ups. He looked young, good head of hair. I spoke to him and said he was the favorite evening newsman for my wife and I. I told him we had been watching him for years. He thanked me and in a friendly way said he would be back on the air when his voice got better. This remark struck me, because it was the same thing I said to our parish pastor several years ago when he asked me to resume lectoring after I had carotid surgery. Peter turned to take a picture and stepped on my toe and I said, "You're on my foot." "Sorry," Peter said, and then he was gone and I awoke. A short time later I got my morning newspaper and learned he had died yesterday from cancer.
Later this morning I told this to my grandson, Steven Archibald, and he wrote in an e-mail, "Maybe since you were a loyal fan he came to visit you."
I will miss Peter Jennings, he was on each evening and over the years became to be looked on as a member of the family.
#278 (05-39)
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