As you read this poem view all the different kinds of Love one person can generate from so many different groups of people he touched. The poem is written by a mother when her thirty-five year son died after enduring a three month semi-coma caused by injuries sustained in a work related accident. The quality of life prognosis was very discouraging.

Life is filled with connections and separations. Our peace is effected by how we deal with our separations. The wise live preparing to have no regrets.

OK-Maybe we are not that Grand or Great But you have to agree we are very special!

Anyone who has dealt with loved ones with illness of the mind knows this all too well.

Society has a way of using words to make atrocities seem antiseptic - But it does not make them any less horrendous. It just makes us FEEL less.

The baggage we bring into relationships has to be dealt with, But if both realize the problem and are willing to work on making a new start, it might work. Just don't judge one by the other.

Is there a simple answer to the teen violence? In raising my children I learned they live by example.

Quilts are a wonderful part of our history. People who Quilt must have a talent plus patience. Quilts come from the heart.

I can write this poem - and poke a little fun - because I am one.

I find nothing more relaxing than sitting on the bank of the Mississippi River with rod in hand, visiting with friends, waiting for granddaddy catfish to come along.