In Memory of Dr. Ruth Westheimer

"This week, though," Peter grumbled, causing a light frost to form on the front gates. His eyes grew wide as the soul stepped forward. "Oh, no ..." It was small, but mighty, and it was tapping the air between them. "You have no sparkle in your eyes; this must be the worst kind of performance anxiety," it said. "I'm glad I'm here." A horrified Peter watched as the soul searched for a chair to sit on. "Uh ... that ... uh ... won't be necessary. Bigger things are in store for you, dear one!" he blasted uncomfortably (with a smile to match). "Size doesn't matter," the soul teased him, using its wits to form a nearby cloud into a chair. "ADAM AND EVE ARE RIGHT INSIDE!" Peter near-yelled, and the soul froze. "Would you mind terribly if we had our chat later?" the soul offered apologetically. "I can honestly say that I have waited my entire life for this!" "Absolutely no problem," Peter replied, trying not to show relief. "Your happiness brings me joy." He pushed the button to open the gates, but the soul had turned on his last words and winked at him (at which point, he groaned and put his head down on the podium).