I remember a girl I knew at UT-Martin who was beautiful all the way through to her soul with a genuine kindness and compassion that is rare in this world. One November Friday I wanted her to come home with me to Memphis for the weekend but as the day wore on I got tired of trying to find her (everyone didn’t carry cell phones back then) because I loathed driving that two-lane highway from Martin to I-40 (small town speed traps). I went home alone. When I arrived in Martin on Sunday afternoon, my roommate told me that the girl had been killed by a drunk driver going to her own home late that Friday night. The accident was so violent that her mother couldn’t even identify her own daughter’s body. It was one of the worst funerals I’ve ever attended, with her mother collapsing and her large, very religious family questioning their very foundations. So, on rainy Friday nights, right before Thanksgiving, I think about her and wonder if things could have turned out differently if I had been a better person.