On my way to the gym this morning the radio station I was listening to made mention of the birth dates of two notable people – journalist Sam Donaldson and recently deceased Associate Justice of the Supreme Court, Antonin Scalia.

Donaldson was born on this date in 1934 in El Paso, Texas, and during his career served as White House correspondent for the ABC network. Scalia was born in Trenton, N.J., in 1936 and served on the Supreme Court for nearly 30 years after being appointed by Ronald Reagan in 1986. Both men were larger-than-life figures and will certainly be remembered by generations for years to come.

But the date of March 11 has a much more personal meaning for me. One that makes me smile and shed a tear at the same time. My sister, Jeannie, was born on this day in 1955. She was a happy little girl and grew up to be a warm, happy wonderful woman. She was incredibly proud of earning a nursing degree at Villanova University and equally proud of her two daughters. We both shared a love of folk singer-songwriter Jim Croce, who grew up in the Philadelphia area and played there often.

Even when Jeannie was dying from colon cancer she never lost that wonderful smile and zest for life. I remember on one occasion when I couldn’t make the three-hour drive down from Massachusetts to Connecticut to visit her in the hospital, and called her instead. I told myself I would have to say something funny to get her to laugh.

Of course, less than a minute into the call, I was nearly rolling on the floor in laughter about something she had said, and at the same time I could hear her laugh coming through loud and clear on the other end.

In less than four weeks she would be dead, at age 47.

Not a day goes by when I don’t think about her. And when I do, it’s always with a tear accompanied by a smile.