For 83 years, Betty Grebenschikoff believed her best friend from Germany was dead. But just a few weeks ago, there she was, standing in a hotel room.

At the age of nine, they shared a tearful hug in a Berlin schoolyard when their families were forced to leave the country because of World War II. They both thought that would be their final hug. But after more than eight decades apart, the two women, who are now 92 years old, embraced once again.

The survivors of the war had searched for each other for years, collecting and seeking information from anyone who might know something. They had no luck, mainly because both women changed their names later in life.

It was not until an indexer (检索程序) from a nonprofit organization founded by Steven Spielberg, which preserves information of these survivors, noticed similarities in their information that the two women are linked together. For the first time, Grebenschikoff who lives in Shanghai now, got to know what happened to her long-lost childhood best friend: Wahrenberg and her family went to Santiago, Chile, where she still lives today.

With the help of the organization, the two women and their families reconnected on the Internet. Talking in their native German, they promised to meet in person, and one year later, they finally did.

As Grebenschikoff went to meet Wahrenberg at her hotel room, they hugged for the first time in 83 years. “It was as if we had seen each other yesterday,” Grebenschikoff said. “It was comfortable.” Wahrenberg had the same feeling, “It was very special that two people, after 83 years, still love one another.” The women spent four days together. They went shopping, shared meals and, mostly, talked for hours — making up for the lost time. “We’re not the girls we used to be when we were 9, that’s for sure, but we kept giggling like we were little kids.” Grebenschikoff said. “It was such a joy for both of us.”

The student arrived early, sat front and center, and stood out in my classroom in more ways than one. I’d say that he had about 40 years on his classmates in my class. He eagerly jumped into class discussions, with his self-deprecating humor and wisdom of experience. And he was always respectful of the other students’ opinions, as if each of them were a teacher. Jerry Valencia walked in with a smile-and he left with one too.

One day, Valencia said he would have to stop taking classes that semester and reapply for next year. By then, he hoped to have earned enough money from construction jobs and have his student-loan papers in order. But he said he was still coming to campus to attend events or see friends. He asked seriously whether he could still sit in on my communications class.

Sure, I said. But he wouldn’t get any credit. No problem, he said.

Soon there he was again, back at his old desk, front and center, jumping into our discussions on how to find and tell stories in Los Angeles – a 63-year-old junior with as much energy and curiosity as any of the youngsters in class.

“Here he is, willingly taking a class for the joy of it and benefit of learning,” says Jessica Espinosa, a 25-year old junior. “You may not see that in our generation.”

Valencia showed up and took the final exam too. Afterward, I overheard Valencia say he wanted to stay in school until he earned a master’s degree, but it had taken him 12 years to finish community college, so he had a long way to go.

Twelve years? He was in and out of school, he said, subject to his work schedule and whether he had money for classes. He had earned his associate of arts degree over the summer, then transferred to Cal State LA to start on his bachelor’s.