Beth was my older cousin whom I looked up to when I was a kid. I thought she was the coolest. Word of her death brought memories from my childhood, like her dancing to Elvis records in her room -- at the time she really liked "Return to Sender." Another time on a dark, hot, summer night, several of us cousins were telling ghost stories. We were outside in the back of a station wagon while the adults stepped inside a neighbor's house for a few minutes. Beth told, with great effect, the story of the man who lost his arm and wandered about asking, "where's my golden arm." That's all I remember, but I still get shivers. A trek through the Cotttonwood cemetery with her is a childhood memory that I'm not likely to forget. I regret that I had not made a point to talk with her recently. Time is so short. We are praying for her husband, kids, parents and siblings, as well as the extended family, during this unmaginably difficult time.