Yesterday afternoon I dashed upstairs from a long and (to me) confusing meeting, ready to head out the door and get my long weekend started. The message light on my phone was flashing away and I felt duty bound to check it. It was a work call but the woman who left the message said calling her back next week would be fine.
I returned her call anyway, and I'm so glad I did.
Intrigued by my unusual surname she asked if I was related to The Fuehrer. Why, yes, I was - he was my grandfather. Turns out that when she was a first year teacher in 1965, The Fuehrer was her principal at a tiny country school. She sang his praises for quite some time and then we chatted away about this and that - and we got round to talking about the work thing she'd rung up for. Then there was bit more very gratifying lauding of the old F and we finished our call.
How wonderful to love and admire someone so much and have your esteem confirmed by others.