Date: Sun, 12 Jan 2014 11:32:33 -0500 From: Eff Del Subject: Flights of Angels-Chapter 2 Flights of Angels-Chapter 2 By Eff Del For some foolish reason, we have been taught to think that a child's purpose in this world is to grow up. This is of course, nonsense. A child's purpose in this world is simply to be a child. It is not a flaw or a fault in the child that it does in fact eventually grow up, that is nature, but it is not purpose. The fact that childhood is fleeting doesn't give it less value. Nature doesn't rank its treasures based upon longevity. Nature pours the same amount of effort in to each and every moment. It makes no distinction between the mayfly and the tortoise. Childhood is not a process; it simply IS...much like a sunset. Both of these are viewed with wondrous appreciation not just because they are beautiful but because they are fleeting. As large as the cabin was, it wasn't large enough to completely eliminate or even muffle the shrieks of delight and excitement as seven little boys, having completed their initial exploration of the immediate grounds and the waterfront, now swept through every room on all three floors of the building. I was sitting in the kitchen sipping on an iced cold beer with John and the Professor, while my two resident caretakers stood leaning against the center island counter with their glasses of pinot grigio. Windy and LC had been the keepers of Long Bear Cabin since I was 11 or 12 years old. I was never clear how my father had stumbled upon them or if in fact, they had sought out my father. All I knew was that this wildly unlikely couple had lived in the large apartment over the boathouse and looked after the cabin and the property for over fifteen years. Both were in their late forties and while there was no doubting that they were gay and a solid couple, they had not taken advantage of the state's newly revised law making marriage between same sex partners legal. They seemed perfectly content being a self-proclaimed and long standing pair. Physically, they couldn't have been more different. Windy was short, plump and bald save for a ragged fringe of grey hair which gave him the air of middle aged Friar Tuck. LC on the other hand, was tall and as lanky as a rail. He sported a full head of hair worn long and drawn back into a ponytail. His hair had been snow white for as long as I had known him. They were two of the funniest people I knew and upon meeting them; you couldn't help but be entranced by their mutual charm and good nature. They were perfect together and as a team, performed their functions at the cabin with almost invisible perfection. "When all the equipment arrived, knowing you were bringing along seven little boys, we made an executive decision and put all the sleeping bags upstairs in the loft. Was that right?" Windy asked sipping his wine. "You bet that's right" I said with a smile "and I can tell you this- the three of us are going to be sleeping on the second floor in bedrooms as far away from their noise as possible. After a brief discussion, we agreed that lunch would be a "make your own sub sandwich" affair and we would follow that with a boat tour of the lake. I figured that would pretty much take up the rest of the day and give the kids a taste of the surrounding area and its many possibilities. Doc and John had each been up here a couple of times but for the boys this was a first and I knew that they weren't prepared for the size of the lake and the wildness of the surrounding country. "We were thinking chicken parm for diner tonight if that sounds OK to you Eric." LC spoke. "Sounds great but honestly, I've got to tell you guys...I'm leaving the menus completely up to you. You've done this for too long to need any advice from me and besides, these are pre-teen boys. There'll be no need for your Cordon Bleu training with this bunch so just relax. This is a fun trip with nobody to impress. Whatever you cook they're going to love it." ********************************************* The boys were delighted with the assembly line sandwich lunch and they ate like a little swarm of locusts. There was very little left on the plates of cold cuts, cheeses and vegetables that had been laid out for them and I think I spotted one lonely roll sitting on the table and two forlorn potato chips in the bowl as we ushered them out and down to the dock. While John and I loaded the coolers filled with water soda and beer on board, Professor Swaim showed the boys how to put on and comfortably fasten their life jackets. He gave a little speech explaining that at no time would any of them be out in a boat without wearing one even though they were "the certified finest young swimmers in the entire state". This of course drew large smiles and raucous agreement as they climbed aboard the big bow rider and found their seats up front. There was plenty of room as the boat was designed to comfortably carry 14 adults. John cast off the lines and I fired up the big outboard and we pulled smoothly away from the dock. Since I own seventy five percent of the shoreline, the lake is in a pretty natural state. The surrounding forest was a thick mixture of tree types. While there were many deciduous varieties primarily oak and birch, the vast majority was, typical of mountain forest; evergreen. We were not at such a high elevation that the trees didn't grow to full height. The timberline was far above us on the Devil's Horn. The thick forest was very different visually from what the boys were used to seeing in the "lowlands" where we all lived. They were intelligent kids and they were all savvy enough to appreciate what they were seeing. I was initially cruising leisurely along the north shore and pointing out some of my favorite landmarks. I specifically wanted to show them the "sandies" which were small naturally occurring sandy beaches that looked invitingly out of place compared to the wild rocky nature of the bulk of the shore. I explained that my father had deigned not to actually name them but rather, each beach was known by number counted from leaving our cove and moving down along the shore. Hence, there were... First Sandy, Second Sandy, Third Sandy etc. "We're coming up to Fifth Sandy now guys. This is the biggest and the best of them. It's always been my favorite. We'll probably at least have a picnic here one day...maybe even an overnight. If you look up there at the top of those rocks, that's the "crazy man's ledge" it's the best jumping into the water spot on the whole lake. Even though it's pretty close to shore, the water's quite deep there." Their collective reaction was predictably enthusiastic and being little boys, they were soon attempting to cajole me into pulling in to shore so they could try it out. I was smiling but adamant that right now, we were strictly on tour. Having passed this last beach, I headed out toward the middle of the lake in order to give them some idea of its size. It took about fifteen minutes before they realized with some degree of discomfort that they could barely see the shore anymore and what they could see was merely a grey blur without visual detail. "Now do you see why your life jackets are so important?" I asked. "If something were to happen to the boat, good as you guys are, I wouldn't want to have to depend upon you being able to swim to shore." This changed their previously chipper moods into something decidedly somber and so, I decided to lighten things up again. I throttled the giant outboard and soon the boat reared nose up and we were speeding across the lake. The shouts of delight as seven little boys enjoyed the choppy ride, echoed across the lake. As we neared the far shore I slowed down and told them; "We're pulling into Raccoon Cove. It's a part of the lake shore that I don't own. It belongs to Camp West Wind...that's a boy's summer camp. We'll just make a pass past their beach so Commodore Tipton knows we're at the cabin...I'll bet we'll all be invited over here to spend a day and if we are, I promise we'll have fun. We're good neighbors to each other and have been for a long time." Making certain that there were no people currently in the water near the wide beach at the end of the cove, I pulled in as close to shore as I dared and gunned the engine as I raced parallel to the beach raising a large fan of water. Cutting the wheel sharply, I sped out of the protected waters of the cove and back onto the large lake. At this point I noticed the sun was pretty low in the sky. We'd been out for about four hours and it was time to head back. I winked at John and I opened her up. We got home a whole lot faster than it had taken us on the way out and the boys were thrilled. ********************************************* Sitting at the long table set off from the kitchen, I looked down at seven smiling little faces, each of them including Sean, with noses and cheeks newly red from the sun. Windy came rolling out of the kitchen with a wooden bowl in his hand, and a very serious look on his face. "Listen up men." He commanded the attention of the boys. "Pass this bowl down and each of you take one folded piece of paper out." He watched as they did as he requested with looks of complete puzzlement. "Now, you're up here for ten days and there's no free ride in this kitchen. LC and I have taken care of everything today and we'll handle everything on days you've got special activities but in between that, you're all going to get one day of kitchen helper duty. That means setting the tables for breakfast, lunch and dinner, helping to carry the food out from the kitchen, clearing the table and helping with the dishes." At this point, LC entered from the kitchen carrying a clipboard. "Unfold your slips of paper and call out your number. I'll write it down here next to your name and I'll post a chart in the kitchen tomorrow." With a solemnity that only pre-teen boys can somehow affect, they each unfolded their slips of paper and reported their numbers. I was a bit surprised when it became apparent that Sean had drawn number one and little Charlie had number two. "Ok then, on your scheduled day, you report down here in the kitchen at 6:30 in the morning." LC stated drawing a chorus of groans from a number of the boys. "Hey guys! It's only for one day. That's not so bad!" Sean spoke with a large smile. I felt my heart flip as once again I was reminded why I loved him so much. Before there was any further reaction LC and Windy strode back into the kitchen returning almost at once with steaming platters of gooey chicken parmesan and bowls of linguini. There was soon too much eating for any grumbling and the satisfied noises circling the table made for pleasant listening. The food was considerable better than just "good". LC was (among his many other talents) a trained and certified gourmet chef and Windy was no slouch in his own right. When the two of them teamed up in the kitchen, the food was always glorious. When dinner was finished, we all gathered in the big room in front of one of the massive fireplaces now sporting a roaring fire. With pillows flung upon the floor, everyone was grouped comfortably as Windy and LC passed around mugs of hot chocolate to the boys. Doc soon made certain John and I were sipping on something considerably more "adult" and the odd couple soon emerged from the kitchen with an opened bottle of wine and two glasses for themselves. Doc Swaim stood up. "Who would like to lead us all in a song?" he asked and was as surprised as I was when five of the boys almost in unison said; "Sean and Rico!" Before any of the adults could make a comment, Matty spoke up; "Yeah you guys...go get your music stuff." With an exchange of smiles, the two boys bounded up stairs to the loft. When they returned, Sean was carrying the guitar case and Rico was toting a satchel. I knew that Sean had brought the little Martin but it hadn't occurred to me that his friends knew that he played. Just another mystery of childhood I supposed. Matty and Bulldog had moved two armless chairs up in front. Sean took out his guitar and Rico removed from his sack what looked for all the world like a long necked ceramic gallon jug except there was an unexpected hole protruding from the side of the vessel. While Sean adjusted the tuning on the guitar, Rico began rapidly thrumming the sides of the clay jar with his palms and fingertips producing a surprisingly loud sharp rhythmic tone and then by striking the side hole, created a remarkable deep haunting bass note the likes of which I'd never heard before. The combination of the two actions produced percussion music entirely unique to my experience. As I watched him warming up I realized the tone of the notes changed with the position on the jar that he was tapping. Fascinated I asked; "What is that Rico?" "It's an Ibo Mr. T" he replied with a smile. "It's from Nigeria. Some people call it an Ibo Drum but it's not really a drum its...well, it's something else." With a cute giggle he added; "It's an Ibo!" Satisfied with his tuning, Sean nodded to his friend and began a driving syncopated chord progression on the guitar. This also was new. I was used to Sean delicately finger picking the instrument but now he was using a plectrum and the rhythm he was playing definitely had a jazzy almost third world feel to it. It was contagious and made you want to move with it. Rico was soon countering with his fingers flying up and down the sides of the Ibo and as they played, both boys, eyes closed and lips pursed in tight smiles were swaying their bodies in time to the music. Suddenly, they were singing in a strange but perfect harmony. My grandma and your grandma Sitting by the fire My grandma told your grandma "Gonna set your flag on fire" Talkin' 'bout Hey now Hey now Iko iko un day Jockomo feena ah na nay Jockomo feena nay I recognized the song as the strange classic New Orleans Mardi Gras song whose strong rhythm and mysterious lyrics had been covered over the years by a diverse number of recording artists under different titles such as "Iko Iko", "Jockomo" and "Uncle John". I wondered briefly how these kids had come to learn it but gave up on that thought because nothing really surprised me in that regard anymore. After the first verse and chorus, the other six boys were up on their feet, dancing joyfully and singing back the lyrics in the distinct call and response fashion that was the nature of the song when sung in its proper environment. When the final verse had been sung, the boys circled around little Charlie who, grinning ear to ear began to extemporaneously create verses out of thin air. Eventually, he made up at least one for each of the boys and then, without a bit of mercy or deference included one for each of the adults including Windy and LC. His little creations were hilarious and soon we were all singing and swaying around him egging him on to new levels of creativity. I was to learn later that this was one of the small boy's talents. He had the gift for rhyming and joining words at the drop of a hat and entertained his friends and family endlessly with his abilitiy. When he had sung his last verse and then repeated the actual chorus, he spread his hands to indicate he was finished and we all cheered and applauded with enthusiasm. Sean and Rico continued to play and lead us in songs for about an hour when I decided to be the big meanie and announced that it was now time for bed. To my absolute surprise, I didn't receive a single grumble as they trooped up the stairs. I did however; hear what seemed like conspiratorial whispers. At the second floor landing which formed a sort of gallery overlooking the great room, they lined up along the railing and began clapping their hands in a familiar rhythm. At the center of the line, little Charlie grinning like a Cheshire cat and wiggling back and forth in time to the music, began to sing; Some old men and some young boys Dancing like they're wired Some old men asked some young boys How come you're all not tired? Talkin' bout Hey now Hey now Iko Iko un day Jokomo feena Ah na nay Jockamo feena nay Some old men told some young boy "Get up there an start snoozin'" Some young boys knew some old men Just wanted to be boozin' Talkin' bout Hey now Hey now Iko Iko un day Jokomo feena Ah na nay Jockamo feena nay Then they called out in unison; "Good night all you old men!" and amid a torrent of giggles they rushed up stairs to the third floor leaving the five of us adults shaking our heads. **************************** As I always do when I'm up at the lake, I slept deeply and well. The master bedroom took up almost the entire east side of the second floor and was floor to ceiling glass on two walls. I was slowly coming into wakefulness before the rose-grey light of dawn shone through the glass as I instinctively reached over to touch him in greeting and was startled to discover his side of the bed was empty. My mind clicked into gear before panic could set in and I remembered where I was and with that memory, came the unhappy recognition that my bed would remain empty for the duration of this trip. Rising naked from under the covers I walked alone into the bathroom for my morning piss followed by a shower. I deliberately chose not to shave this morning as there would be no one to complain about my rough stubble this evening, I privately chastised myself for this sudden wave of self-pity with a personal reminder that as he grew older, he would almost certainly be sharing my bed less and less. I shook my head in bittersweet resolution knowing that I had chosen the path and the role that was ultimately best for him and that was all that mattered. Ah, the sad repercussions of a proper moral and emotional decision. In anticipation of a warm day, I donned a red tee shirt and a pair of grey cargo shorts and headed downstairs in search of the day's first cup of coffee. As I entered the kitchen, I was delightfully surprised to find him, eyes twinkling, his face lit up with a broad Sean smile. "Mornin' Dad! You're up pretty early, we just got started." I took in the sight of him. He was too cute for words. His thick dark hair was an unruly mess. Without me or someone else to remind him, he never thought about brushing or combing it. Either Windy or LC had fitted him out in a white canvass kitchen apron that was too big and therefore extended well below his knees. The tie string was wrapped numerous times around his thin waist or else it would have certainly been dragging along on the floor. His smile never faltered as he came to me extending his arms up to pull me down for a morning kiss. I silently thanked all the powers in the universe that he hadn't yet decided he was too old for such demonstrations of affection. Smiling broadly, Windy called from across the room; "Hey scullery boy...cut out all that smooching and get that poor man a cup of coffee! " With a grin, Sean scampered off to the big stainless urn. As he filled my mug the wonderful smell of the steaming hot coffee filled my nostrils and brought a smile to my face. "Doc Swaim is taking all the boys over to the south shore for fishing lessons this morning Sean. Do you want to go with them or do you want to do something else since you've already been `professorized'?" "No, I'd like to go with the guys. Maybe I can learn more stuff or maybe I can help out. Either way, it'll still be fishin' so you know it'll be fun." I nodded to him and sat down with my coffee; He reached down and with his fingertips stroked the morning stubble on my cheek. Looking up at him I was greeted with a mischievous little grin. "Don't go getting any ideas about growin a beard Dad." And then he giggled. "Well, I gotta get back to my kitchen. See ya later." And with that, he he gave me a kiss, spun around and was off. Shortly after breakfast, Doc Swaim and John took the boys on the short hike around the edge of the cove and out to the southern shore of the lake. I'd made certain they each had identical rods and reels selected by the Professor himself waiting for them when we got here and I knew before the day was over, each of them...even the two beginners... would be more than proficient in using them. I had to control my urge to giggle when I saw that Sean had brought along the oversized fishing hat from Fish Camp back home. Apparently, for him at least, its magic was still potent. I had stayed behind this morning because I had some business loose ends I wanted to tie up so that I could enjoy the rest of our stay in peace. Sitting up on the wrap around balcony/deck sipping on a glass of single malt I was having a conference call with Phil and Walter as the late morning sun filtered through the nearby tree tops warming my face. After we'd concluded all the business I'd been concerned about, Walter said; "Eric, when you get back, we should meet as soon as possible. Barry has come up with a proposal for the adoption cover story that's so good...well; I don't want to steal his thunder. We'll let him present it to you. It's pure genius...the guy never ceases to amaze me!" "Also Eric..." Uncle Phil cut in "You were so busy getting ready for your trip, we never got the chance to talk after we got back from the National Park. We'd both like to have a conversation with you about that young man Chris." "Man, you two have really got me curious now!" I was smiling. "We'll get together on all this first thing when I get back and Walter... I've been thinking, I'd like Richard to start attending our meetings from now on as well as Barry so they're always up to speed... OK?" After disconnecting with them, I got up to make myself another drink. As I was doing so, the phone rang. With a shrug, I answered it. "Little E?" said a gruff deep voice on the other end causing me to break into a grin. Very few people in the world knew me well enough to call me by my childhood nickname but this fellow was certainly one of them. "Commodore! I KNEW you'd spot me broadsiding your beach yesterday! How are you?" George "Commodore" Tipton had been headmaster at an exclusive boy's boarding school in Vermont many, many years ago until one day he purchased a very lucky lottery ticket. Leaving the world of private education, he'd purchased the 25% of the land around Osa Largo that my family didn't own and had built Camp West Wind. It was an all summer residence camp for boys 11 to 16. Half of the campers came from well to do families, the other half were underprivileged boys set up with "camperships". More than half of these came from funds provided by my family trust. My father and now I had great faith in the return these opportunities provided to society in general. A summer at West Wind was a truly life changing experience especially for a low income boy from the city. Many lives had been turned around and many fine young minds re-directed and saved by a summer on the lake with the Commodore and his crew. "Watching through my binoculars yesterday, it appeared as though your bow rider was filled with boys! Are you going into competition with me?" "I wouldn't dare try that Commodore...you'd scuttle and keel haul me!" I then filled him in regarding Sean, our new relationship and about the reason the whole group of boys was up here with me. "Well then, how about you bring your crew over to camp on Tuesday morning? Based upon what you've told me, we won't have any swimming races...we know better than to go up against ringers, but I'll bet we can find some things for your boys to occupy themselves. Maybe they'd enjoy an overnight here at the camp eh? " "We'd be delighted and I'll personally be very happy to see you again...oh, and I've got Doctor Swaim up here with us I know he'll be glad to see you as well. We'll be there by three bells of the forenoon watch." This of course was an antique nautical term from the old days of wooden sailing ships which roughly translated to 9:30 AM. During the off season, the Commodore spent most of his time on his boat in the Florida Keys. He'd bestowed the title "Commodore upon himself and even though he rarely set sail very far from his berthing, he relished his self-created image as a "crusty Old Salt". I hung up the phone and took a long sip from my drink thinking to myself that this trip was turning into a better and better adventure for the boys. Propping my feet up on the railing of the deck, I drained my glass and leaned back in my chair. I must have drifted off to sleep quickly because the next thing I knew, I was waking up to the raucous sounds from below. The mighty fishermen were returning and they sounded happy and excited. The fishing lessons had been a huge success and each boy had caught several fish all of which had been carefully removed from the hook and restored to the environment of the lake. The Professor (as he always did) had explained the principle of catch and release and since no fish were required for any meals today, the fishermen's mercy was across the board. It also turned out that Doc Swaim had announced that should LC and Windy require fish for eating at some point during the week, it would be Sean's duty to instruct the other boys in the art of cleaning fish...a prospect that apparently had met with mixed reaction from the boys. The consensus being that it sounded like a disgusting job. The dinner table was filled with accounts of each boy's individual and shared exploits and Doc had proudly declared them each now skilled enough to fish on their own with no further assistance required from him or John. I learned that Jon's contribution to the day had been issuing words of encouragement as he drank beer and manned the net as required. He had also (with Sean's help as the day's "kitchen slave") laid out and supervised lunch. As the conversation came to a slight lull, I stood up, wine glass in hand and declared; "I propose a toast...to the Seven Fishing Samurai. May your exploits always be successful!" This was greeted with hearty and energetic shouts of agreement from all of those around the table. When dinner was over, the table cleared and everyone was gathered in front of the fire, Windy and LC began what was to become a nightly ritual during the trip. They announced that Sean's day of servitude in the kitchen was over and that he was now officially "graduated" from "kitchen slave" to "Snooze Boy" meaning he didn't have to get up early to help out and could therefore snooze a bit. They then presented him with an apron that Windy had decorated himself with a marvelous cartoon of Sean scrubbing out a huge greasy pot. All done in permanent fabric paint, It had his name at the top. It turned out that they did this for each boy as his turn came about...a treasured memento of a not so very hard day's work. I announced that tomorrow we were taking the big pontoon boat out onto the lake to try out everyone's fishing skills for real. As the lake was only lightly fished all year, I knew some exciting experiences were waiting out there for them. The evening ended with Doc telling his first story of the trip. In the dim light in front of the dying fire, he told the story of the "Windigo". It was a spooky story based upon a real Indian legend but greatly embellished by the skilled story-teller and when he's finished, seven subdued little boys kept very close together as they made their way up the stairs to bed. The five of us were sitting in front of the fire sipping our drinks and talking. After about an hour had passed I said; "Doc that was a pretty scary story you told tonight. I think I'll go on up and make certain everything is ok with the kids. I climbed the stairs quietly trying not to make noise in case they were all actually asleep although I doubted very much that I would find that to be the case. As I stepped onto the landing for the third floor loft where they were all bunked together, I heard muffled whispers and subdued giggles. The hall was totally dark and with this as my shield I peered into the roomt. It was lit only by the moonlight streaming through the glass of the rear wall but the sky on this clear night at this elevation was remarkably bright and I could clearly see that all seven boys were grouped together. They were completely naked and most of them were kneeling as they watched something excitedly. They were watching Mike who was on the floor lying stretched out and Sean who was industriously masturbating him. "Three more to go after Mikey Sean" came a whisper. I was pretty certain it was Bulldog. "Remember, we all agreed-the kitchen Boy has to be the pump boy before his day is really over." There was a round of muted agreement. Suddenly Mike's body began to buck and his arms were flailing as he moaned in pleasure trying not to make too much noise. The boys giggled in approval as Mike experienced his climax. After a few moments, he slowly, sat up and scooted over to the side. "That was great!" he said...louder than he'd intended and was assaulted by several muffled "shush" noises. Little Charlie slid over into the center of the group and lay down taking Mike's place. "My turn." He said with a giggle. Nodding, Sean coated his hand from a bottle that even in the dim light I recognized as baby oil. I smiled to myself...someone had thought ahead that was for sure. Without any fanfare, Sean reached down to the other boy's crotch and began a series of motions that would be recognizable to any male human being in the course of the existence of our species. Little boys learning about and enjoying the new found pleasures their maturing bodies were capable of producing. What could be more beautiful and at the same time funnier? "Mmmmmm. Good Sean, Keep it slow like that." "Yeah, enjoy it Charlie" someone murmured. "Remember...YOU'RE kitchen boy tomorrow so you're the pump boy tomorrow night." Shaking my head, I turned and headed back to the stairs as giggles of agreement and amusement issued from the room. Smiling, I thought to myself that those aprons were going to have a much more significant meaning to those boys than Windy and LC would ever know. *********** Much later, I lay in bed looking out the glass wall enjoying the bright night sky. I wasn't certain what time it was but I knew it was very late. I just couldn't fall asleep. I wasn't certain if it was the nap I'd taken that afternoon, because I had so many different thoughts floating around in my mind or if I was simply achingly lonely without him curled up against me but, whatever the cause, I was wide awake when I heard the door to my room slowly open. He stepped in and glided silently and swiftly up to my bedside. Though the room was strange to him, he moved with surety guided by the adequate visibility provided by the subdued light of the mountain sky. I said nothing and didn't move a muscle as I watched him slip out of his underpants, turn down a corner of the covers and slide into bed. I felt his smooth warm skin as he squirmed up against me and it was then that I turned my head fully to him. At once he was on his knees alongside me and he bent gracefully down to kiss me tenderly. "Sean...What..." I half asked in a horse whisper.. He placed his finger against my lips and whispered; "Shhh. Miss you Eric." And with that, he slipped down between my legs gently urging them apart. I felt his hot little lips wrap themselves around my raging hard cock and his fingers softly knead that part of my shaft that he couldn't yet take in. He silently worked me into a burning frenzy that could only have one conclusion I gripped and squeezed his little shoulders as he continued bobbing and licking even after I'd exploded into his mouth. He slid back up my body and kissed me again- long and passionately then lay down on top of me; head resting on my chest as I wrapped him in my arms and stroked his insanely soft skin. When I awoke, the sky was grey and he was gone. I got up and walked to the glass wall gazing out over the woods silently asking the questions that sprang from my heart. Was I praying? I wasn't certain. I only knew that if there were gods that cared to hear, I wanted to express my thankfulness for allowing me to love so deeply and be so loved in return. "Can you hear me?" I softly spoke the question to the universe. "Do you know just how grateful I am?" (To be continued) Thanks for your emails. I'm stunned but delighted that so many took the time to tell me they're enjoying getting back into Eric and Sean's world. I'm always glad to hear from you and I try to answer every email. Please take the time to consider a contribution to NIFTY. Next time, we'll get some wisdom from the Commodore.