The most amazing things happen, thanks to the wonders of Google. Last month, I decided that the time had come to get out the letters of my old British penpal Barbara, and write about her. I corresponded with Barbara, who had a hole in her heart and was ten inches shorter than I, from 1962 when we were twelve, to 1966. My friend, so bright and lively, was accepted by the Mayo Clinic for an operation and died there in 1966, at the age of sixteen. I have carried her letters with me ever since, and when I got them out forty-two years after her death, I suddenly wanted to find her family.