In the late 1940’s and early 1950’s, I attended the Garfield School in Parkersburg, West Virginia. One of my classmates was a big boy named Oliver. He was a very quiet boy. I remember every time I saw him enter or leave the classroom, there was a circle of pale, yellow light around his head. As a mere child of seven or so, I never thought this was unusual, just pretty.
In those days, it was common for students to walk home for lunch. One early, warm, spring day, I returned from lunch and noticed our class was very quiet. Our teacher said, “Class, please give me your attention, I have something very important to tell you.” In a very somber voice she said, “One of your classmates will not be returning today or ever.” She went on to explain that Oliver had been hit by a car while he crossed the street on his way home for lunch. He had died a short time later.
Then she asked each of us to stand and tell the class what we liked about Oliver. When it was my turn, I said, “I liked the pretty lights.” The other kids laughed and I cried. My teacher was a kind woman and she only smiled at me. I have thought about that incident over fifty years ago and I truly believe she saw Oliver’s Halo, too.