From The Chief Editor's Desk

Isn't it strange how some people come into your life just when you need them the most? We may not always realize it at the time. Sometimes, we may even be a bit reluctant to open the door for them to come in. But some people are so persistent, there simply is no telling them "No." Closed doors are no obstacle, either. They just keep knocking until the door is answered. They'll even find a way to force their way in, if you don't open the door.

I once had a friend just like that.

I guess I should back up a bit. There is a bit of a "backstory" here, and I need to fill in some gaps for this all to make sense. Back in the 1990s, I had just been through a divorce with my second wife. The "girlfriend" after my second divorce took advantage of me, financially. Between the bills I "inherited" from my second wife, coupled with the financial shellacking of the girlfriend, I was in a bad, bad place. I often wondered how I'd afford my next meal. I worked full time, and still just barely managed to keep a roof over my head, and just barely kept my aging vehicle road worthy.

During that same time, I was a small time Windows Shareware programmer and author. I wrote and distributed MiniHelp Plus, a help authoring program and system for the old RTF-based Windows Help system, more affectionately known as Winhelp. Most of what I did, programming wise, centered around the Windows Help subsystem. One aspect of that was seeing how far I could "push" Winhelp to do things it really never was intended to do. Ralph Walden, the Winhelp project lead at Microsoft at that time, had the foresight to make Winhelp extensible with specially designed dynamic linked libraries, or DLLs. To that end, I was also the programmer/author of Arsenal.dll. It had a literal arsenal of tools that allowed the display of true color images (native Winhelp support for images was limited to a 16 color palette ... you could display whatever color you wanted, just so long as it ONLY included those 16 colors), video playback, audio playback, and a whole host of other "delights" that typically weren't available within the RTF-based Winhelp. Hence, its name ... Arsenal.dll.

Email didn't play as "big" of a role then, as it does now. It wasn't as easy to find someone as it is now. The internet, compared to what it is today, was in its infancy. BBS systems were waning, Usenet newsgroups were THE thing, AltaVista and Yahoo competed for the top spot among web search engines, and IRC was still king of the online chat. Online "people searches" hadn't really been organized into the big business that it is today. But, to my friend, none of that deterred her. She set out to find me, and failure was not one of her options.

One day, out of the blue, I got a phone call. It was from a phone number and name I did not recognize. After having been bombarded endlessly by creditors I was unable to pay their desired payments, I remember almost not answering the phone. At first reluctant and thinking it was yet another creditor, I relented and answered the phone. Without much delay, the very well spoken and kind lady on the other end established if I was, indeed, the programmer/author of Arsenal.dll. I confirmed that I was that person. Like a racehorse out of the gate, an immediate friendship was born.

She went on to detail her pet project, Vacation Alaska (now defunct). It was an electronic publishing attempt when most people hadn't even heard of -- or considered -- electronic publishing. She was looking to move it from its DOS based roots, to the more robust Winhelp. Arsenal.dll helped her overcome some of the inherent limitations of the standard Winhelp, making it her first choice as the new destination platform. Two people talking about something they had in common: a passion for using Winhelp as an electronic publishing platform

That phone call couldn't have come at a better time, during one of the worse and darkest periods in my life. I certainly felt alone. I was living in a town that was about 200 Km from my family. I had moved there, foolishly, to be nearer the fleecing girlfriend. She was history, so there I was, alone, and I really didn't know anyone else in town. Town? It barely had 1,800 people in it. Talk about feeling like a fish out of water! I had moved from the Kansas City area, where the metropolitan population is somewhere around 2,000,000 people. Yes, million. Two of them.

If you don't know much about small towns in the rural parts of the midwestern U.S., let me tell you a few things. First, the sidewalk literally rolls up at six or seven in the evening. Most of the local businesses cease operation. The only things open in town after that time were a convenience store, a bar, McDonalds, and Pizza Hut. Second, you're either from there, or you're not. And if you're not, good luck fitting in and making friends. Once an "outsider," you're always an outsider. Oh, people are kind and "friendly," but that isn't the same as friendship. As hard and as much as I tried, I never really made friends there. I was that prototypical outsider. In retrospect, the longer that situation went on, the harder I tried. In the end, I probably tried too hard and too much, without any gain.

That first phone call lasted for HOURS. Over the ensuing years, the phone calls became regular, sometimes daily, as we talked about every topic under the sun. Sometimes, the phone calls were just minutes long. But, most often, they were hours long. Such was the bonus of having unlimited long distance calling on my landline, long before it was popular or prevalent.

I knew she was older than me, but I never knew how much older. After all, it's considered poor manners to ask a woman her age. I only knew that we both had birthdays in August. We were just really good friends, on a strictly platonic level. We didn't always agree on things, but simply agreed to disagree on those topics. But we agreed on many, many things. She told fabulous tales of her family, her kids, her many travels and exploits, the work she had done and was doing. At first, I thought they sounded rather embellished, as tales sometimes have a way of sounding over the years. But, as time went on, I began to realize that the tales were most likely true, since every time they were told, the details never changed. I never tired of the tales, nor the conversation.

As the years went by, we had still never met, face to face. We talked frequently, mostly on the phone. As email began to become more popular, it was also worked into our communication regimen. She was my best friend, a kindly voice and person always willing to lend an ear and friendly advice. All of this, despite having never met. Girlfriends came and went, jobs came and went, but the one constant was my long distance friendship with her to ground it all. She moved from Stamps, AR to Hot Springs, AR. In Hot Springs, she bought two adjoining condos on Lake Hamilton, and had them redesigned into one large million dollar condo. It was literally feet from the lake. Go out on her dock just 30 feet from her patio door, and you literally were standing on Lake Hamilton.

My friend was a pioneer, of sorts. It was a role that she loved. She fell in love with -- and moved to -- Alaska before it was even a state of the U.S. Her tales included how she and her then husband built roads for the logging industry in Alaska. There were tales of her as a bush pilot, flying with high profile visitors into the Alaskan wilderness. There were still other tales of hunting moose, caribou, bear and deer to provide meat for the camp meals. There were many tales of fishing. One of her favorite sayings and advice was to fill up your life with the three "F's" ... friends, family and fishing.

After moving back to Arkansas after her divorce from her husband in Alaska, she took care of her aging mother. She also threw herself into the young, fledgling computer industry. She learned programming, especially as it applied to digital publishing. She became a beta tester of many of the software packages many computer users the world over still use today. She was even a consultant for the U.S. Department of Defense on some of their computer systems. She talked fondly and often about her friend, Rod Willmot, an author and digital publishing pioneer himself.

Finally, in or around 2004, while I was with the last girlfriend before I met my current wife, Laura, we made a brief trip down to Hot Springs to finally meet my long time friend. The image above is from that trip. After nine years of talking on the phone, we finally got the opportunity to meet, face to face.

After my wife and I married in 2006, we took a delayed honeymoon down to Hot Springs, where we were my friend's guest in her million dollar condo. We had a great time, as newlyweds typically do, but we also spent some high quality time with my friend, just the three of us.

That was the last time I ever saw my dear friend. Oh, we stayed in touch for quite some time afterwards. In fact, we stayed in touch until shortly after she moved in with her son, in Port Angeles, Washington. Afterwards, contact became increasingly sporadic, until finally, I didn't hear anything.

The two pictures here are the only two pictures I have of my dear friend. But the memories of the many, many conversations we had are endless.

Sometime, during the last week of November, I entered her name into Google. That is when I discovered why things had gone silent. She had passed away after a brief battle with cancer on August 31, 2016. Her name was Bobbye Lynn Hildre, although I only knew her as, and referred to her as, Lynn. In fact, I don't think I ever knew she had "another" name. The last email I ever received from Lynn was her reaction to my son, Ryan, being born. I emailed her on September 1, 2013, and heard back from her on September 19, 2013. That was the last time I ever heard from her.

Lynn was a huge supporter of PCLinuxOS, and of course, The PCLinuxOS Magazine led by her friend. She never joined the forum, instead using me as her personal and private support person. She did install and use PCLinuxOS. She looked forward to each and every release of The PCLinuxOS Magazine.

It wasn't until I read her obituary that I realized how old she was (she was 82 when she passed away, 26 years my senior). Not that it mattered. We were friends. The best of friends. We literally had a friendship that transcended time, distance, and most of the frailties that curse mankind. She was that ONE special friend that entered my life when I needed a friend the most. She was that ONE special friend that just wouldn't take no for an answer. She was that ONE special friend that kept knocking and kept knocking on my door, until I finally answered.

I'm sure glad I did open that door. The impact she has had on my life is untold, and that story isn't anywhere near finished. She's one of those special people who have a lasting impact, long after they are gone.

I miss you, Lynn. I miss our long, long conversations about everything and anything under the sun. I miss your fascinating stories, whether it's the first time or 20th time hearing them. I think often of my dear and departed friend. I'm just sad that it took me over two years to finally discover her fate.

During this holiday season, the most sincere gift I can wish for you is to hope you find a Lynn in your life. If you already have a Lynn in your life, you're that much closer to happiness. Embrace that friendship. If you don't have a Lynn in your life, be sure to answer the door when they come knocking. You won't regret it.

Please forgive the extra long length of this month's column, but it took some doing to tell this story. I've shared with my PCLinuxOS family, here, things that few others know about me, and about the light that got me through one of the darkest periods of my life.

Until next month, I bid you peace, happiness, serenity and prosperity.