Bring the old into the new

The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha is a story that most of us have heard of, usually from some Lit class from high school. What stands out in the memory of most is a crazy man fighting windmills. Those of us that have only given it that cursory of a look have missed a giant part of the story.

In the main character, we have a man that has engrossed himself in stories of heroes, chivalry, and the pursuit of truth. As he ages, his minds starts to bend to the belief that these stories are true. That loyalty, bravery, and a fierce desire to do good is not only a honest goal, but an attainable one. Throwing a saddle on his old horse, donning a old, ragged suit of armor, and convincing his friend, Sancho, to accompany him…he sets out on quests born in his old and tired mind, to win the love of his one and only…Dulcinea. He takes the impossible stories that he has read and applies them to his everyday life, believing them to be true, possible, and absolutely needed in his world. This would be no different than someone, in today’s world, donning a red cape and walking the streets as Superman, looking to change the world and win the heart of Lois Lane.

As you would expect, he is met with ridicule and scorn by those that fail to understand his vision. He “tilts at windmills” they say….attempting impossible acts to satisfy an unrequited love. He is betrayed by those close to him. Eventually, it is not his defeats that destroy him, but the realization that those things he believed in had no place in his world…a fact that sent him to his death bed.

I first remember reading this story in high school, not as an assignment, but by a suggestion from an English teacher, who thought that it would be something I needed to read. He came to this conclusion after reading some things that I had written on my own time. I used to call them “thoughts”. Just words jotted down when the mood hit me. I had a girlfriend back then, named Tracey. She was the first person I ever showed them to. She really liked them and told me that I should show someone that had a little more knowledge than either of us had to see if they were really any good and what I could do to make the better. Although, a lot of the “thoughts” were heartache sort of things, a handful were about the emotional scars and the moral plateaus I had reached after dealing with the act and the cause of my parent’s divorce. The ugly, selfish, and uncaring nature of their acts during that time left an imprint on me. It centered my way of thinking. And it made me believe that we were supposed to be better than that, as human beings. Especially to those closest to us.

This teacher really seemed to like the things I had written. He said that the romantic things were beautiful, but sort of simple and not well thought out. But, the ones that really got to him were those that seem to come straight from an angry or damaged place inside me. His suggestion to read the 17th century Cervantes book was for me to see that I was not alone in my way of thinking. And that it was a sentiment that was not a new one to my generation. The idea that we could strive for better than we are, even if our goals may seem unrealistic to some, is not rare or in any way new. My take on the subject was different than a man challenging buildings to a duel. But, the principle was the same. To challenge the weak to be stronger than they knew they could be. His other motive was to show me that the world isn’t always ready for different. It’s not always open to something outside the status quo. Looking back, I think what he was trying to show me was that our world (at that time) had become a very selfish one. The changes that had occurred over the last decade or so had changed the moral outlook of the country and expression and love were a much freer things than they had ever been. Adults at the time we about a era that saw the divorce rate climb to over fifty percent for the first time. Television had become our major form of entertainment and had schooled us on the idea that all of life’s problems could be solved in less than thirty minutes. Women watched soap operas in record numbers, seeing people living lives they could only dream about and believing that not only was it normal, but it was expected. And when real life different play that out, they jumped ship. Not that it was all the wives’ faults. Men found women more available and didn’t let a little thing like a wedding ring or vows get in the way. Thus are the things that saw the end of my parent’s marriage, along with a lot of others. This beautiful story was introduced to me to show me, as he explained, that there is nothing to be ashamed of in “tilting at windmills” and it’s those that dare to do it that teach us the most.

I carried that tale in my gut and mind for a lot of years. But, soon alcohol and other things seemed to shrink the notion and shelve the idea that I could change the world. My moral compass slipped. And my “quests”, as well as the voice in my head that helps me create these things you read, seemed to vanish.

It wasn’t until I got sober that I picked up the book again and reread it. It was simply an act of looking in a book store for something new to read, and walking out with an old friend and his tale of bravery and scorn.

You may notice, that unlike some others who may discuss this book, I have not used the word “madness”. Although Don Quixote’s enemies were self-made and his idea of love was a bit misguided, the thought that the world could use a little bit of chivalry inserted back into it was not. In his buffoonish way, he tried to be the light of possibility to those that witness his acts, thinking that if he could just get a few to see what he could see…feel what he could feel…that the world would be a better place. He thought he could win the woman he loved with his bravery. And he thought he could bring back those ideas that others seemed to believe lost.

What I gained most from this story in rereading it is that we must find a way to create our own moral centers. To determine those things that are important to us. We must do our best to provide bravery, courage, wisdom, loyalty, honesty, and care to those that mean the most to us. And we must demand the same in return. But, the mistake that Don Quixote makes, that we are just not allowed, is allowing our own falters from this lofty perch or the failure of others to reach the level we expect to crush our very souls. We must never fail to learn from out mistakes and allow others to learn from theirs. And we must allow for forgiveness from us and to ourselves. We must also hold those accountable as we would hold ourselves. And never allow ourselves to feel we don’t deserve the very best from all that we meet, but remember that there are times we are just not going to get it. We must value our own self worth and the heart, soul, and mind of others. And, if we are lucky enough to fall in love with someone who loves us in return, we must strive to honor, respect, care for, protect, and never fail those people. Disappointments will happen, but they are not failures. They are opportunities to learn. Repeated disappointments can spell failure if we are unwilling to learn from the pain we cause.


There are those who have recently questioned my honesty. I challenge them to prove me wrong. I stood up against a windmill. Although there were others pointing at the windmill and whispering it’s danger, I was one of the few who was willing to point it out and stand up for what I had to say. Because of that, I am no longer friend with some…and have had my loyalty questioned by others. It’s fine. I know where my motives were. I know what was in my mind. And I know what I said and did. And I have nothing to hang my head over.

So, I will suit up. I will take all that you have to offer. But, what some fail to realize….what they missed in the story….is that it wasn’t the windmills that killed the warrior. They had no real power over him. It was the lost love and the heartbreak of realizing that no one wanted all he had to give.

This is not the same story. This one has a different ending. No lost love. No heartbreak. Just discarding of the shallowness and rising above the childish nature of the world we find ourselves in.

The Unending Wave of Shock and Loss

On February 18th, 2011, my Aunt Ree passed away. Her given name, Rose Marie, was only used by those outside the family. To all of us…she was simply Ree.

It had a been a couple of months or so since I had last seen Aunt Ree. She had been here for a visit and I spent a few hours with her and her husband, Uncle Jay. Far too short of time, had I known what was to come. What struck me during that visit, was that Aunt Ree still referred to me as “Chuckie”, a nickname given to me instead of “Little Chuck” due to my father and I having the same first name. She and my uncle, I thought, were the only people that still referred to me that way. No one else has called me that since I was a very young man. I remember at the time cringing a bit, thinking of the “never going to be grown up to them” feeling I had when I heard it. But, it was just a moment and it passed.

Her death was a shock to everyone. She had been having a pain in her hip that she apparently down played and had scheduled a doctors appointment for the end of the month. On the Tuesday before her death, she called the doctor to see if they could move up her appointment. They told her there were no openings and that she was to wait until the scheduled day. When she asked what she was supposed to do about the pain, the receptionist told her; “Make sure you show up for your appointment.”

Apparently the pain in her hip was caused by an infection that had probably been there for awhile. On Thursday, she was visited by a daughter in law, who is also a nurse, who saw that her color wasn’t good. After checking and finding her blood pressure to be very low, an ambulance was called and she was rushed to the hospital. Medications to correct her pressure and make her comfortable were given. At this point, some optimism was allowed to grow in her immediate family. Her color had returned and she seemed to be doing better, but the pain grew much worse. Within hours it was learned that the infection in her hip had spread throughout her body, making her septic. She had multiple organ failure…her body was shutting down to try and save itself, killing her in the process. Before the sun rose on Friday morning, she was gone.

The shock ran through our family like an earthquake that shook the very foundation of support system. A death after a prolonged illness is painful and we never seem to be ready for it, no matter how long the person may have been ill. But, a death that comes out of no where….that shocks everyone…seems to cause not only the pain, but the confusion, the anger, and the unsettled nature that sends everyone….from the epicenter of the immediate family to the friends and extended family…spinning out of control in a funnel of shock.

We…my mother, my sister; Nadine, and myself…left for Roanoke early Sunday morning…going straight to the funeral parlor…arriving just in time to participate in the private family viewing. With barely enough time to hug the grieving, we were ushered into the small, but beautiful chapel. The cries ahead of us were agonizing. It took this moment for it really to sink in to all of us. My mother almost collapsed a couple of times. Her legs just didn’t seem to want to support her. Kneeling next to the casket, I looked into a face I barely recognized. She seemed so swollen that the pain that she must have suffered was evident. My heart simply broke.

The next few hours is a blur of emotion and tears. I remember hugging my uncle and his children…my Aunt Carol and her husband and daughters, my father and other two sisters who arrived around 6pm. I don’t know that my head really cleared until we left the funeral home that night after arriving for the public viewing. My parents, all my sisters, and myself then went to dinner…the first time that the six of us have sat at the same table…just us…in more than twenty years. I honestly can’t remember the last time. It was a strange and yet comforting feeling that washed over me while sitting at that table. We talked about everything other than the reason we were all gathered there. My father seemed to be glazed…floating through the whole event…lost in his own thoughts.

My parents, divorced for many years, have known each other since they were in grade school. My father and my Aunt Ree actually dated before he dated my mother. She was a true sister to him. And the loss of one of his best friends was written all over his face…floating through his hazel eyes.

After dinner, my mother and Nadine went to the home of the estranged wife of one of my cousins to spend the night. I met my father and other two sisters at the Airport Marriot. We met in the lobby, where they each had a drink while I sucked on my Pepsi. Again, we chatted about things…anything…other than the reason for this sad reunion. We desperately tried to make each other laugh, probably with the realization that the funeral the next day may make sleeping difficult for all of us. After about a half hour, we all made it up to our rooms. Staying in a hotel room alone is probably in the top ten of loneliest things we do to ourselves. I have done it many times before, whether it be for vacations or business trips during my paralegal days. But, this stay…the loneliness just tore at me. I communicated with the love of my life, but found it hard to find words. I didn’t want to expose her to this pain…I wanted to keep her distant from seeing me this way again, but I so much wanted her with me. To have her hold me and comfort me. I know that if possible, she would have been right there. But, her voice and her gentle words were enough to send me into a short sleep. I woke up around four AM and read for a while. Fell back to sleep and woke up around 7:30.

The funeral mass was as moving and touching as any thing I have ever witnessed. The grandchildren spoke of their love and grief. Telling everyone had they would see her again when it was their time to go. Sitting in that church I felt the presence of God…but, also the presence of this amazing woman. Her and her husband had attended this church for almost thirty years. The words spoken of her by the priest and the monsignor spoke of a woman very involved in giving back to her parish. They spoke of her love of family and friends, not showing much difference in that love between those two groups. My aunt was a giver. It was mentioned how she carried shopping coupons in her purse, designated for certain people, her knowing the things they may need depending on the situation. That kind of consideration was her norm. She cared for everyone as if it was just second nature…what she was supposed to do…what she had to do.

The funeral procession from the church to the cemetery was the longest I had ever seen. There had to be over fifty cars. All of the streets and intersections during the 20 minute drive were blocked off by local police and sheriff departments….officers standing by their cars in salute. My cousin being a local officer, they force was well represented.

At the cemetery, the wind came up. The priest’s prayers were barely audible over the flapping of the awning above the gravesite. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes of the surrounding area. It took me a few moments to realize why. The next site was the a burial place of my grandmother…mother to my mom, my Aunt Carol, and …of course, Aunt Ree. I had been here 27 years ago to say goodbye to my grandmother and now I was back to say good bye to my aunt. The flowers from the chapel had been placed on my grandmother’s plot. Very poetic…very approriate. Two of the grandchildren released doves. I watched them fly quickly away. And then it was over. We all stood around trying to take in each other, to support and carry the pain and grief that we all felt.

The woman of the church and the local police department scheduled a luncheon at the church following. It was there that things seemed to start to mellow a bit. The first bits of laughter were heard as stories of my aunt and uncle were told. After 53 years of marriage, the stories were many and all very entertaining. Tears and laughter mixed together are a very odd combination. But, so made for each other. It was during this time that the first lifting of the grief started to take place.

After a brief rest, we made our way to the home that my aunt and uncle shared for almost 35 years. I had not been in this house in over twenty years. It had changed a great deal and was hard for me to get a sense from at first. But, a trip to the downstairs bathroom started the memories to flood in. The room, other than paint and wall paper, had not changed at all. As I walked out, the narrow stairs leading up to the second floor sent more memories to flood back. The basement, where we had spent so much time during our visits as kids was just a place I could not go. Sitting on the sun porch hearing my uncle telling his stories, my cousin Julieanne adding her parts, and my cousin Brian arguing the merits of all things Steeler caused the years to fall away. Suddenly I was twelve years old again. All that was missing was the smile, amazing laughter, and the hug of the missing woman of the house.

It was some where during this time that I realized that my uncle and my cousins were all referring to me as “Chuckie”. They didn’t know me as anything else. And the comfort I felt in that was amazing. I am not sure I can explain it and do it justice. But, there was something in the rareness and the nature of that address that almost brought me to tears a few times. I found myself going outside, with the excuse of a cigarette, to get my emotions back together and to wipe my eyes.

I didn’t spend as much time with my aunt as I would have liked. The fact that the younger two of her children and I seemed like strangers to each other breaks my heart now. I wish I would have done more to keep the connection…to have kept it closer. I have failed there, like so many other things in this life I have led. It will be a regret for the rest of my life, but one that I hope to keep from continuing. It’s what she would want. And I want to give that to her, if at all possible.

I want to end this by thanking those that sent their condolences and kind and comforting words. All of you, my friends….you mean so much to me and I appreciate your thoughts and prayers, as does my family. To Peggy, a new cousin in my life…thank you for opening up your home to three strangers and treating us with the love and gracious hospitality that only family seems to give. To you and your daughters, my thanks…and my prayers. You will always have family here….I hope you never forget that.

If I may beg your consideration for one more thing, please keep my Uncle Jay and his children in your prayers. After over a half of century of marriage, the loneliness he must feel has to be staggering. I hope that he feels the love around him and knows that he is not alone. We are here for him.

And, to my Aunt Ree…you amazing woman…I will miss you. I will never forget your unconditional love and prayers for me and all of my family. And I will always hear your voice when I am referred to as “Chuckie” from now on. And I will smile…and for a moment…I will be twelve again.

A Open Letter...to all of you

Sitting alone in the dark he wonders, what would he say? If he only had moments, what would he want to convey? We would all like to think that we would spit out wondrous words that could be remembered through the ages, but the truth is we are in so much denial of the fragile nature of our existence, the thought of simply moments doesn’t cross our minds. It is said that the young tend to be foolish because they believe they are invincible. I say that is rubbish. Very few of us, unless faced with a long, terminal illness really ever considers our own demise with anything other than fear.

I have tried very hard recently to think of what I would leave behind. I don’t know that there is much that would be said. I have not cured any diseases, or created any great piece of art. I haven’t invented anything. And, God knows, I don’t have riches to leave behind to better the world. So, I guess it would come down to me saying something of import to be remembered for. I would hope that I would have something more than say…oh, W.C. Fields, who’s last words were; “All and all, I would rather be in Philadelphia.”

I know that we all, when faced with a death that is not our own, feel some regret in the words that we never spoke. I am not sure that is a valid feeling, really. If you are a person of faith, such as myself, you have to believe that once they have gone to that great concert in the sky (hey, you have your version of heaven and I have mine) they know all we think, feel, and remember. The regret that we may be feeling is not so much the thought that we didn’t say it, but that we never got to see or hear the reaction to whatever it is that we think we failed to convey.

I would think that the greater regret has to be with those who have left us. Can you imagine getting to heaven and not being able to enjoy it because you honestly believed that you never conveyed all that you have in your heart for those people that passed through your life?

So, I am creating this open letter to those of you that feel the need to read this. I am not going to mention everyone by name, so if you are not specifically mentioned, understand that I am old and have met a lot of people and to mention all would take more words than you are willing to read.

I have told you all about my friend Mike. Mike left us last year. I miss him more than I can begin to say. I was fortunate to talk to him on the phone many times before he passed. But, he never heard me say the things I really wanted to say. Again, I know that I have already mentioned that he probably is up there right now looking down at me already knowing what I am going to write. But, for your benefit, I have to say that I have never in my life had a friend like him. He is as close to a brother as I will ever have and he made me believe in myself when so many tried to convince me that it was a lost cause. I would not be sober today without him. I would not be as emotional as I am without him in my life. And I don’t know that I would have the courage to share the crazy stuff in my head if I never heard his encouragement. May God bless him and keep him company until I get there. And what a party that will be.

I have three sisters. We have not always seen eye to eye. We just see life differently. Always have. But, I know in my heart that they love me. And I know that there is absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for them. I have caused them great joy and also great heartache. I hope that they know that it was never intentional. I hope they know that they are gifts to me. I hope I get another chance to prove that to them.

I have spent a lifetime trying to become what my father had envisioned on the day of my birth. I have fallen drastically short. In coming to terms with who I am, I walked away from a life, from a career that he was most proud of. And I believe I broke his heart. I don’t know that I will ever be able to overcome the sadness I feel about that. I don’t dwell on that. When I think of my dad, I think of ballgames, boxing matches we attended and watched on TV, concerts we went to, and the Sunday’s in front of a tv arguing over who was better….Gale Sayers or Walter Payton. I was always a Sayers guy. I wish that I could spend a little time everyday with my father. He is one of the best people I know.

My mother has seen the world through her own glasses. She doesn’t perceive of anything being outside of that vantage point. She has suffered because of it. I love my mother. I just wish that one day she could find happiness within herself. Maybe then, she could share it with others.

To both of my ex-wives, I will say that I appreciate what you have taught me. It took me a very long time to figure it out. A lot of frustrating nights and angry days, but I have figured it out. The greatest lesson you taught me is that I deserve better. That my absolute belief in faithfulness is not a foolish dream, but a pure desire to become someone that can look themselves in the mirror in the morning and know they could trust in themselves. I am sorry to say that neither of you can do that. It’s a shame really. I believe that deep down, you are both very special people. Somehow, you lost your way. Maybe I caused it. I don’t know. If I did, I apologize.

My four step children, David, Amber, Christian, and Noah…I love you with all my heart and I will until the day I die. I never wanted to leave you. I never wanted to spend one day apart from you. But, sometimes life gets in the way. I hope that someday you can forgive me for having to leave. I hope that someday we can sit and talk it all out. I will always consider you like my own children and there is nothing I would not do for you. I will miss you for ever.

My past has brought me into contact with some pretty amazing individuals. I have lived so many places and have met so many people. At this age, names and memories become jumbled. I remember making out with Donna Burner at a party somewhere in Nicholasville, Ky. I remember the incredible crush I had on Rita Burt that I never told a soul about. Both of these situations of from my junior high school years. I believe my life would be very different if I never left that slow little town that isn’t so little anymore. I sometimes wish I could have stayed to see it grow up.

In high school there was Tracey and then Debbie Koryntha. Debbie was probably the sweetest girl I knew back then. Way too sweet for the likes of me at the time. I think of her every time I hear “Sweet Emotion”, a song we both loved and crooned together over pony millers and bottles of blackberry brandy.

I knew a lot of men in the service. To each of them, my respect and love. I don’t remember all the names, but I see your faces when I close my eyes and think of those days. We saw the world together. We became men together. And I wouldn’t trade any of those moments for anything on Earth. What a time it was.

I worked with a lot of people in my time on this Earth. A few stand out. First, Patricia Hamel. A partner of the law firm I worked for in Philly. She was the best third baseman I ever played with…male or female…on any softball field. She taught me more about being a professional and about how to get more out of yourself than you ever dreamed possible. For that, and for every laugh we shared…and for her support during one of the roughest times in my life…I will forever be in her debt. I miss her smile greatly.

Bruce Lee was a young man I knew in Ohio. A more caring and loving person I don’t think you could ever meet. We shared a love of music and a fascination with computers. And he taught me how to sell. He taught me what “customer first” means. And he taught me how to laugh at myself when I was never able to before. I will always consider him a friend. No, a brother.

There is also a group of people in Flint that I worked with at Best Buy that probably have no idea what they mean to me. They became a safe haven for me when things there turned bad. In a city so torn apart by the demise of GM and the collapse of their economic system, we found a way to carry a store that should, by all rights, never have succeeded. Adam, Sam, Eric, Jon, Donnell, Jerry, Eric, Nina, Melissa, Bruce, Randy, Rob, my hero Broom, Kabels, Nick, and Ashely…you all made a very difficult time in my life a much better place. Your friendship and the time we spent working together was a sanctuary for me. And I miss you all very, very much.

My current life has, again, brought me into contact with some really great people. I have been fortunate to have found friends here that I value a great deal. I will only single out a few, but know that you all mean the world to me.

George, you sir, are the most considerate, caring, and intelligent man I know. I hope that someday you will see that in yourself again. You never fail to make me laugh, but most importantly, make me think. I hope someday to give back one tenth of what I have gotten from you. Thank you, sir. Very much.

Shawn and Rhonda…I love you both. I don’t know if I can ever do anything that would be enough for to repay the support, concern, and love you have both shown for me. I know I have told you this before, but I will say it here publicly…with the understanding that no one’s life is a bed of roses, the first time I saw you two walking into work together…hand in hand….the way you looked at each other…I knew that I had just seen what I had been searching for all my life. Seeing you made me believe in love again. It allowed me to see it was possible. And for that, I owe you….so, so much.

Carmen, you may not realize it…and I may not show it all the time…but, I consider you the best male friend I have in my life right now. You have listened to me when I know that the repeated nature of what I was saying had to drive you crazy, but you never said a word. You never judged. You just listened. You see through me as well as anyone I know. And you know when to push me to talk and you know when to just let it be. I think you are an amazing man. And I hope that I express that to you in someway, everyday. Without you, a dream would not have come true…because I would have continued to ignore it. For that, eternal gratitude.

Justin G…..APC Justin….my fellow Steeler fan. You never fail to make me laugh. And you take as good as you give. I don’t believe I have ever met anyone as comfortable with themselves as you are. I envy that. You are one of the few people on this planet I would trust with my life. And you make going to work a better thing to do.

Justin D…..CoJo…for allowing me to be me…to vent when I need to and not take it personally. To understand that I really only want to be the best I can be…to everyone…for everyone….and for helping to kick my ass when my I get too full of myself…I thank you.

Heather ….I don’t know if I have ever worked with a manager….anywhere….that is as willing as you are to get your hands dirty, other than Stef Eyers. Like the Marines, you get more done by 9 am then most groups of people. I think I first realized your heart when I saw that look on your face when I came back from the doctors not knowing what was wrong. You have to spend so much of your time being the hard ass, because we have had so few that have wanted to do it….but, as one of those that has seen the other side….I want you to know that it meant a lot to me.

Stef Eyers…only one of the very best human beings I have ever met. A great manager…willing to stand up for what you believe in and fight the windmills when everyone else turned their back. You showed me what a great manager can be. I have missed you since the day you left our store. My prayer for you is that you come to realize just how special you are…life has a way of kicking our ass and lowering our eyes to ourselves. We have both been there. It’s time we both looked up. Because, we are better than they gave us credit for…and the only real losers are those that chose to hurt us in the end. I pray for your happiness.

Joel, my buddy. One of the very few people on this planet who seems to understand me completely…not an easy task for anyone. Your friendship is important to me, more than you may know. Your love of music, sports, and…well, other stuff…makes talking with you one of the best parts of any day I get a chance to do it. Although your choice of football teams is misguided….I will never hold that against you. Anyone that appreciates the opening notes to “Roundabout” the way you do…is top shelf material to me.

My friend, Joan. You are a very special person to me. I don’t know if I met anyone that carried their heart on their sleeve the way you do. Your friendship means a great deal to me. I never want that to change. We have been there for each other so many times. I know that all that you are going through right now will pass…things will get better…and this friend will be there with you every step of the way, whatever you need….all you have to do is ask. Remember, never quit…you are stronger than us all. Don’t let it convince you otherwise. And when you are feeling weak, reach out your hand….we…your friends, will be there….as you have been there for us.

For Meghan, I say your heart overwhelms me. You have a caring nature that shines when you allow it to. I am afraid that that the behavior of others may tear away at that…I pray it doesn’t happen. You work as hard to be better than any person I know. Never let anyone take that away from you. Your spirit will always get you through.

Last, but certainly not least, Kristiana. I wish there was some way to put into words all that my heart feels. I told you once, that I am afraid to wake up every morning to find out this has all been a dream. Although we have had a few growing pains, against all odds….we have each other. I thank God every night for that. After all the mistrust and doubt that the previous relationships have given me, I look in your eyes and I know you would never hurt me. I also know that we share the same feelings Like the story I told you, about the gardener of Roses who said that tending to that flower is a year round, daily job…I try very hard to see our relationship that way. I never want a day to go by without you knowing that you are the most important person in that my life that day, the next day, and the day after that. I hope, with all my heart, that it will never change. Because this is the dream of all dreams. And I never want to wake up from it.

I know there are some that may read this and feel left out. Understand this, every person who currently has the ability to read this has touched my life in one way or another. Without all of you…I would not be who I am right now. I am a very lucky man to have known you all. I may not show it all the time…I may not convey it correctly….but, you all mean a great deal to me and to what I am. And for that I thank you.