We are born, we live, we die—all in their own good time.

And then we hope when life is over to heaven’s gate we climb. All of us hope to get there the easiest we can, but unfortunately life happens—and the fur hits the fan. I was not any different—had hope to get me through—but this and that got in the way—probably the same as you. I had the usual problems—that is the way life goes. For now I won’t write in verses; for now I will write in prose.