Saint Paul's United Church of Christ 401 East Main Street Barrington, Illinois 60010

Hi Bill (Bill Bishop, who will be best man at my wedding),

So wonderful and timely to see you in church today. Thanks for the lift back home, and for listening to my remarkable epiphany.

This is what the Lord has put onto my heart: back to your original idea to stage "events" for membership outreach physically on the grounds of St Paul's, this IS the way to go, if the church council can be sold on the idea of a regularly scheduled, periodic meeting on Sunday afternoons, and the right thing to do is to target other praise band teams in the area, inviting them to put on about 25-30 minute performances, with enough participants to provide about a 3-hour venue (probably open mic is the right way to present it - with the stipulation that each week would be featured performers from various of the local churches) for fellowship, worship, praise, food, coffee, cola, singing, song, and dancing. SOMEBODY has to host the event; it may as well be St Paul's, unless or until someone else steps up to take up the cause (ultimately, a rotating format might be the way to go, if there is enough interest from local churches).

Teen-aged suicide awareness falls quite naturally into this purview (we need to discuss with Paul Tack, who worked many years with my mother at the Jewel Tea Corporation what it is that St. Anne is doing in this regards. To my knowledge, this is the only local church that actively addresses this issue, counseling its children on how to recognize the signs of at-risk-for-suicide youths. To my knowledge this is the only local organization that dares to even whisper the words "teen suicides" in the same breath; the 800-pound gorilla in the living room).

I was so impressed with Jana's acknowledgement of Dark-side Jana today. I had not given her credit for so much self-awareness, although I do believe that if I were to tell her of the five specific instances in which she exposed her evil-spirited bitchy side, and NOT merely to me, she might faint away dead that she had been caught so off guard. But, perhaps, like the recalcitrant child, she recognized that I could be the one to be counted upon for calling her on her bull feathers. I daresay y'all have some boundary issues that make you reluctant to do so, as was discussed at the round table this afternoon.

I'd like you to present the following to Jana and the rest of the leadership crew (star-ship St Paul's UCC, boldly going where no churches have gone before). You'll never get a more sincere, nor more heartfelt, nor better written recommendation than this one (he said, as a statement of fact, which no pride whatsoever; it simply is what it is).

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Saint Paul's United Church of Christ
401 East Main Street
Barrington, Illinois 60010

As kind, generous, non-judgmental, loving, and caring a congregation as you'll ever find, is St. Paul's United Chruch of Christ in Barrington, Illinois. Many of Barrington's foremost and prominent community-serving families have their membership roots grounded here, where Pastor Jana Chwalisz is as a fine a composer and deliverer of sermons as has ever walked the planet. Rene Krupper the very gifted and pragmatic director of music, directs as individually talented a group of musicians as ever you will find, and she uses the various ensembles (Praise Team, Senior Choir, Handbell Choir) in a set rotation so that each ensemble has the opportunity to hear the other two ensembles at least two weeks out of every month.

Although a relatively small congregation (89 families signed pledge offerings for calendar year 2011), their leadership has dared to dream big dreams and will almost undoubtedly grow rapidly over the next five years.

Some of the really nice and things about the Sunday services include:

Large print for the Bulletin;

Their Hymnal is very traditional - they don't update it every 10 years or so, as to the Lutherans, sometimes, or so it seems, for the mere sake of updating the hymnal;

They actively embrace, welcome and nourish gay couples;

They actively embrace, welcome, and nourish peoples of color;

They proudly proclaim the names of the relatives of those who attend that serve in the military;

They proudly fly the American flag;

Each week, as part of the regular devotional service, Pastor Jana asks those assembled to tell of prayers which have been answered, or prayers which are needed for friends / family / loved ones, or even groups of poor and marginalized peoples from all over the globe, and upon collecting all the information, then prays for them leading the congregation in prayer, and then ensures that these people / groups are placed in the following week's church bulletin to ensure at least one more week of on-going prayers for them.

The church had 150 children in their summer vacation Bible school (the word is out - St Paul's does GOOD by your kids);

The elected church council has been dealing with issues few churches see in 100 years these past 12 months and has developed and implemented innovative action plans to deal with the realities of an ongoing (since 1854) but relatively stagnant membership population as thoughtfully, insightfully, and imaginatively creative, willing to learn, willing to grow, willing to change, honest and open as any you will EVER encounter. They also recognize these times of trials and tribulations as an incredible opportunity to sit back and take a very close look at just what it means to be a church; just what the church expects from its pastor; just what the pastor has to offer the church; just what the church needs to do to prosper, GROW, and thrive.

This past year they had to deal with some of the most difficult decisions an established church will ever have to come to grips with and dealt with fundamental questions about just what it was that the church wanted, needed, and expected from its pastoral staff, and what was realistic to ask of said staff. Their response was one that ENRON might well have paid $1,00,000 to a management consulting firm to produce.

If you enter a church service a stranger, you will leave with at least three new and very close, caring friends.

The membership is quite familiar with and sympathetic to the human condition, and they are NOT afraid to tell you when you have done something stupid THAT you have done something stupid, but invariably append, "We love you anyway; we simply had to tell you for your own good because CLEARLY nobody else cares enough about you to tell you these simple (and very obvious) truths."

The UCC is very active in its support to countries around the world. St Paul has sent ministers and congregants to the southern reaches of Mexico where Commandante Marcos and the indigenous Indian peoples are engaged in a struggle to reclaim lands from the wealthies of land-owners for the poor peoples of Southern Mexico.

The church is strongly engaged in local ministries and outreaches to the less fortunate citizens of the area. The church has a sister-church and the two churches engage in joint projects to proclaim and affirm the love of God in their lives.

BEST PART of Sunday worship is the fellowship snacks and coffee afterwards, where virtually every one who attended the service can be found in the fellowship hall sitting or standing, coffee cup in hand, chatting with old friends, or the newest faced visitor (even ones with very bad hair cuts; even ones with hair dyed BLUE!).

I was first drawn to enter the church doors and engage due to the Wednesday afternoon Bible Study (proudly proclaiming “Open to All”), which consisted of lunch, prayer, a round table group of bible-investigators, and another 75-90 minutes of discussion by some VERY knowledgeable ministers (when first I attended one of these, the pastor staff consisted of a Senior Pastor, an Assistant Pastor, and an unpaid Associate Pastor - these three were SO gung ho into the Good Book that they would bring volumes of commentaries on the particular book of the bible being studied and point out matters that might easily escape the eye of one new to Bible study.

I have here only scratched the surface of what this precious gem of a congregation brings bright-shining to a stranger who first enters its doors (all of which but one are locked during the worship service, the better to keep the young Sunday School children safe from those whose intentions are not good) in radiant, loving splendor its church members, and even non-members who regularly attend because once you meet these loving people, they become part of you in a way that is unique. St. Paul's is like a magnet; once you come under its orbit, you are there forever.

Come one; Come all; the words "All Are Welcomed in this Place," were never spoken and written more truer to what is practiced and believed by the denizens of this faith community, and you may rest assured, these words are used on the web page of another protestant church in town, but the senior pastor, the staff, and the congregation DO NOT PUT INTO PRACTICE these words: Citing just two examples, the senior pastor prohibted entrance into the church a 47-year member who had been confirmed there; for over one year, a black woman attended the services and spoke with great length with the then senior pastor (no longer at the local, Barrington church, of her saddness that not once did any member invite her into their homes from coffee, or lunch, and this, she really could not understand, because they all seemed to kind and loving in the Narthex (she also commanded that the senior pastor not tell anyone of what she had told him, and, he quite wrongly to my mind, did as she had requested – sometimes it is far more cruel to be kind; sometimes we must make promises and tell lies we have no intention of keeping).

God Bless You, St Paul's United Church of Christ of Barrington, Illinois - you have been better to me and more caring for me than my own family, than my original Barrington Church where I was at one time or another actively involved in 14 different ministries; more accepting and less judgmental of me than most of my so-called "closest" friends; you fear me not nor do you fear to call me on my stupidity (or pride, or vanity) because you LOVE me enough to risk making me angry, were I not aware that you do these things only out of loving concern, and that your loving concern is well placed and based on the experience of many years of trials and tribulations which virtually every human being will encounter at one time of crisis or another in their lives.

May the peace of the Lord God almighty reside within you, and within your households, and within the lives of all the people and creatures you love, these things I ask, heavenly Father, in the name of your Beloved Son, Jesus the carpenter, fisher, teacher, healer, teller of stories, rabbi, teacher, saviour, if it be Thy Will, AMEN.



With LOVE to you, and ALL You LOVE,
Mark Raymond Ganzer

Prayer for Noah - beloved grand son of my beloved Kathleen

Heavenly Father, please send your Angels to shield and shelter and comfort and defend Noah, who is going through that time of tribulation when every thing is going crazy - he's growing physically, he's growing spiritually, he's growing intellectually, and the world is not at all looking the same as it did but one short year ago. Help him to find HIS community in high school, where he can be nourished and fed and watered, and come to grow into the Noah You had always intended for him to be, and to do so much less painfully than sometimes happens to Your beloved children whose parents and grand parents forget how important it is to constantly remind their children (or grand children, as the case may be) that:

they are perfectly formed in your image,
that they are loved by you with a wondrous love that surpasseth all human understanding,
and that they are good ...
and that all of this shall increase seven fold, even seventy times seven fold,

for You are watching over us all, and even the hairs on our head are numbered. You know us, You know the nether depths and regions of our hearts, and You know the joy, the delight, the gifts we bring to your universe to help cultivate it, to make it better. Please Dear God, help him through these turbulent times to understand that this too shall pass, and that the last shall be first, and that ours is Your kingdom on earth, this we ask in Your name, Dear Lord, if it be Thy will, AMEN.

Further losses

I lost entirely the desire to live and wanted to take my own life, cutting my throat with my Swiss army knife. In this endeavour, I failed miserably, and was made all the more miserable for not being brave enough to take my own life. My alcohol counselor, Ginger Jordan, the former nun who eventually dropped her habit to marry one of her professors, and who related to me the angst felt by the mob hit man (whom she named not) who had to get drunk before he killed those he had been ordered to execute (must have had a pretty steady hand to make such good shots, assuming, perhaps wrongly, that he was a shooter, and assuming even further, against, perhaps wrongly, that he was a he, was entirely unimpressed. Perhaps she had other clients who were far more competent when it came to the taking of their lives.

In point of fact, she was probably a nice enough human being, but, as far as providing any meaningful counseling, she was a worthless cunt, and, coming from me, that is a pretty harsh judgment, because that pussy thing ought to be worth a fortune, to anyone willing to shake the money maker.

Gingah, dahlin', you ought not to divulge such confidences - but, you couldn't help yourself, could you, you just had to let me know, just like the little kid who discovers for the first time the intense pleasure of touching his own penis and goes out and about sharing his self-touched penis for all to see.

Christ, how do such people become therapists? The Rapists? Sick fucks all, themselves, no doubt.

But in my loss of the desire to live
I gained the knowledge that even a life not worth living
Was a life worth keeping, or, far the more likely, I learnt
that the Lord God Almighty loved (and continues to love
in that steadfast way as is repeatedly promised to us) me
enough to send his most powerful archangels to keep open
that crack where still, a little light could get in
and while even though life might not have been worth living
life was worth something, even to me, who was worthless,
ugly, wicked, manipulative, deceitful, perverted, yes,
despite (or maybe even because) of the seeringly deep soul searching
that I have engaged in over the years, especially intensely at times,
depsite all that, I have GAINED the knowledge that I AM,
and ALWAYS WILL BE, a child of the Lord of Love, perfectly formed
in HIS IMAGE, and that I am (and always have been, and always will be)
GGGGGGGGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!

A song for my son (the last one - son and song both? quis sais?)

This is one of about four songs / poems I've written for Adam (Son Shine, might be lost forever, but Mike Meyers, a local architect has it in his archives, which he hasn't looked through in 20 years ... sigh)

The inspiration for this was the time between the night Adam called me (well, his mom dialed to tell me Adam wanted to talk with me) to tell me he was not going to continue with his piano lessons. He was crying, fearful / tearful I suspect, because he knew how much I love the piano, and was worried he would disappoint me by wanting to quit. "Oh, no, Adam," I assured him, "I quit piano lessons too. This is the whole point of having raised you, so that you would be able to make these kinds of decisions for yourself."

I was nervous about what he would be like coming over on the weekend, but I needn't have been. He was SO damn happy, had so much fun with Scott, and Nathan (this was in the era B.G. - before Graham became a 1/2 brother and cousin). I was relieved; he had survived.

The sound of your laughter
Lingers long after
Long, after you're gone,
Sustaining me to carry on.

The light from your eyes
Cuts and shines through the darkest night surprise
And points the way
To a bright sun-shiny day.

The sound of your laughter
Lingers long after
Long, after you're gone,
Sustaining me to carry on.

The light from your eyes
Cuts and shines through the darkest night surprise
And points the way
To a bright sun-shiny day.

The sound of your laughter
Lingers long after
Long, after you're gone,
Sustaining me, feeding me, nourishing me, to carry on
Sustaining me to carry on.

The most remarkable thing about the poem / song (and which ever comes first, because the melody was, to the best of my cognitive functioning, an original) is that when I perform it, the length of time is over six and a half minutes. There are not even any vocals until about the two minute, twenty second point. Kind of like a Grateful Dead Jam that ultimately bears much fruit (honey, I love you).

With Love, to all of you reading this, to You, and ALL YOU LOVE - MarKUSS

My saddest loss, I count a greater gain

I was a patient at your facility from 10 November, 2011 through 15 November, 2011.

While I found much of what you have to offer to be sadly lacking (this, be assured, I will address under separate cover), I did follow up on an exercise recommended by the nurse who saw me on 11-11-2011, whose name I can't recall.

The (female) nurse recommended to me that I make a "grief chart" of all that I had lost in my life.

This I did this afternoon, with the most remarkable result occurring, which I would really appreciate if you could share with her, because I suspect your staff does not get a whole lot of positive feed back from clients on the mental health ward (feel free to share it with anyone else you wish to, especially on that ward).

For every loss I recorded, I was blessed with an even greater gain, and to see this, on paper, is truly a revelation.

My sincere thanks to that kind nurse for listening to me well enough to make it worth my while to follow up and complete her recommended exercise. This is, in fact, an incredible revelation which I shall be sharing on several of my blogs, and with my facebook Power of Prayer (an invitation only intercessory prayer) Group.

Sincerely,

Mark Raymond Ganzer


LOSSES:

My dog spot died when I was 10. I cried like a baby for hours. I lost spot, I gained humanity.

My Uncle Jim died when I was 17. I did not cry for 15 years. I lost Jim, I gained the knowledge that my country routinely fights unnecessary wars, that our soldiers have all died in vain in EVERY war we've fought, at least since WWII, and that I must oppose with every fiber of my being all present and future "wars of choice" in which we invariably pick on a helpless nation with natural resources or geopolitical significance to continue our imperialist, murdering, maurading ways.

I lost a number of girl friends that broke up with me - almost invariably, I have gained their friendship and kept their admiration for my gentle kindness and listening ear, and have come to realize that these are gifts that I can give freely, and that I not only ought to, but that I must.

I lost my innocence; I gained a healthy skepticism.

I lost my virginity; I gained an insight into incredibly selfish motivation.

I lost my grand parents; I gained insights into their short comings, and even (for one in particular) mean-spiritedness -- I gained the reinforcement needed to assure that I will not be mean-spirited (which does not mean that I will not raise hackles; truth tellers are rarely appreciated by those of whom the truth is being revealed).

I lost a job which encompassed my identity; I gained a new identity that did not rest on the coat tails of another person, place or thing.

I lost an extremely lucrative career, and gained the knowledge and wisdom to know that it is better to virtually starve doing something you love than to live very well doing something that conflicts in a major way with your ideals, goals, and values.

I lost a house - and lost all of the heart aches such things bring; it never would have been a home - so I gained the ability to be the authentic me and delight in the consequences rather than to be inauthentic, grit my teeth, churn my stomach, and bear it.

I lost the friendship and respect of many people who did not appreciate the various stages of my metamorphisis - I gained the knowledge of the identity of my truest friends, who stuck with me and supported me in my hours of rebellion and soul-searching; I gained back the time I had wasted trying to please those who only saw me as someone with a lot to offer at a cheap price who now will have nothing to do with me.

I lost my entire family (at one time or another) and gained an even larger group of communities into which I am respected and admired, but also called to task for the foolishnesses I still commit.

I lost my son -- but he gave up on me, and thus, having given him the best father I could have been, leave him with those lessons. My job of raising him is long since finished; I have done it well, and he will be able to survive and thrive the rest of his life.

I lost my mother to death - but gained the knowledge that she lives, just elsewhere, in a different form.

I lost access to the church I was confirmed in and a member of for 47 years; I gained 5 churches and one mosque where I am loved, respected, and cherished for my volunteer efforts.

In each and every instance, what I lost was replaced by so much more; by so much more.

Telling the ones you love that you love them, and why

This is one of the four or five most important things we get to do in life. One of my most cherished girl friends from high school and I reaquainted on face book. She apologized to me for "treating me badly" back in high school. Sheesh, I NEVER once thought that, and told her so. She now works counseling unwed mothers, being with them through their pregnancy as they carry it to full term. Some of these young girls have no one else. I'm weeping now just from the joy of having been loved by someone who follows so devoutly in the way as shown and told to us by Jesus of Nazereth - carpenter, fisher, teacher, leader, healer, story-teller, saviour.

 

Hi Donna! I'm sorry to hear that your folks are ailing. They were always so kind and generous to me, always made me feel I was welcomed and loved in their home, an honored guest at the dinner table, and they trusted me to be good to you (showing their extraordinarily excellent judgement of character)!

I doubt I ever shared this with you, but, it is as good as anything I ever wrote. I was saddened when you realized that I was not the boy friend you needed at that time of your life, but looking back, I was looking for something that was more than you were looking to share, which happens so frequently. But my motivation was honorable, and I did adore you so much (and have grown, thanks to this here facebook thingie, to adore you and admire you all the more:

China Doll

Here is evidence that I was once young, romantic, and subject to heartbreak. Didn't even know I still had a copy of this, written in 1969, when I wore a younger man's clothes. Assuredly, I gave away too much of myself - in those days anyway. Has anything changed?

China Doll

I am a China Doll.

Fragile.

Don't breath too hard,

I might fall and shatter.

The little brown-eyed, blond haired,

four year old child holds me

in his fingers (he can squeeze and I

might or might not shatter, probably

not, he's not yet strong, although he is

as a god with the power

of life and death. Unconsciously

he holds me to set me

down gently to play with

another day or to end suddenly

me. and when he does (he will, for he

knows no better) he may laugh,

or he may cry, but he will be

changed and he will remember.

I am a China Doll.

Fragile.

Don't breath to hard,

I might fall and shatter.

You hold me in your heart,

now, at least. You hold me

more than you will ever know.

A China Coll is at first fascinating,

lovable. But a China Doll

is unsure and even having the

power, he can only hold it impotently

until it inevitably changes hands.

You hold me more than you will

ever know. You hold me to set

me down gently to play with

another day or to drop and end suddenly,

me. you know, or at least should know

that China Dolls break and suddenly;

though if not forever, broken, they are changed.

I can be glued together again, and

again, and maybe I'll laugh and

maybe I'll cry, but I will be changed

and I will remember, and

I will break and break and break and break and break and

break and break again until finally,

I jump. Myself. And shatter

into a million lost pieces.

A China doll.

YOU HOLD ME MORE THAN YOU WILL EVER KNOW.

This was all about you, and your youngest brother, and, of course, me. But the problem with me was that I invested and placed in your hands too much responsibility for my own autonomy, which is never a good thing.

One of my favorite songs is Kathy's Song, by Simon and Garfunkel. But, the problem with that song, is that the poet has invested too much of his autonomy, too much of his heart, in another human being. That's WAY too much to give away, and way to much to put on some one else's plate. Lord only knows, we have enough of our own life to deal with without having someone dump theirs into our laps.

I've developed a wonderful (albeit long distance) relationship with Kathleen Harris, as amazing a human being as ever I've met (and I've met quite a few amazing ones - in the best sense of "amazing"). I re-worked the Simon and Garfunkel song for her, and for what she gives to me, for what we share, and for what we hold on to of our own. Here goes:

I hear the drizzle of the rain

Like a sweet melody it falls

Soft and warm continuing

Tapping on my roof and walls

And from the safe harbor of my mind

Through the bay window of my eyes

I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets

To L.A. Where my heart lies

My mind is focused, unconfused

Though my thoughts are many miles away

They dream of of when you're asleep

They kiss you when you start your day

And I song I was writing's so soon done

I don't know how you inspire me so

Filling me with God's grace and Love

Always remembering to let me know

And as I watch those drops of rain

Weave their cheery paths and thrive

I know that I am like the rain

When I'm with you I'm most alive

And so you see I have no doubts

All that I once held still holds as true

I stand tall, sharing my beliefs

In the one true God with you

All is inordinately well in my world. I know what I am called to do, and it still leaves me with much time to do much, much more; to learn something new every day; and to rejoice in the simplest of things. I am blessed in so many ways, and you have indeed been one of those blessings.

Warmest regards, deepest gratitude.

Mark

We must always cherish the children in our lives who radiated love, even when we deserved it not

Can it really be 25 years since I first intruded into your family's life, on my birthday, called your dad on the phone because another actuary that we had both worked with said, "You remind me of this other actuary, Bill ######."

Yes, oh ray of light, shining so bright,
Dancing so gracefully all day
Dancing so gracefully all night

I seldom read my e-mails at this addy any more, and so just found this tonight, after an interesting five days in a mental hospital (checked my own self in - anything to get away from my father, at the time, who was being quite the jerk, what with my mom having died and all, he really ought to have offered me parting words other than these: "Who's going to take care of me?" {as I left to wend my way on my own to a mental health clinic, ending up not at the one I sought - transportation still being something of an issue with me - but another one, which got me rested up, my blood pressure down from 195 / 140 to about 140 / 85 and my blood sugars from about 325 to 125 ... my oh my oh my oh my - some bad sugar habits had evolved, my sweet one})

Ah, yes, them; fathers. So often entirely clueless about how to treat their daughters and all too often cavalier by too much with their quips when they should have kept their mouths shut, their tongues tied, and their ears opened and been prepared NEVER to judge .... but, by and large, it is not in their nature.

So, I blog (probably the world's most prolific bloggers, not merely because I run about 19 of the things, but because I post 100's of postings - ugh, horrid syntax - per week, when I'm all a'fire)

MarkGanzersBlog.Blogspot.Com was my first blog.

I tried to kill it, by not posting, and three months later, I was getting over 200 hits a day. I now post international issues there.

MarkGanzersInsanityBlog.Blogspot.Com -- US politics, cultural commentary, media criticism

MarkGanzersWritings.Blogspot.com -- my creative writing

MarkGanzersPhotos.Blogspot.com -- stuff from my extended families

You might be interested.

Or not.

From everything I ever knew about you, you were a bona-fide Genesis I child - perfectly formed in God's own image, and you were good. None of this could have possibly changed. You are now the you you always were going to be, joyous, loving, and yet .... honest, righteous, courageous. And these traits, while all are admirable, and we are taught all are traits we should attempt to attain and hone, these are traits that are virtually never appreciated by, hmm, how shall I say this next word ... assholes?

Too harsh perhaps. Too crude. Not appreciated by those whom ostensibly have power over you - parents, teachers, preachers, cops, bosses, etc, etc.

It terrifies them to be told the truth - most people are ill-suited for what they do - they just fall into it. They are lazy, incompetent, sometimes willfully so, sometimes just mismatched with where their true love of doing is and what they are doing instead is - doing in order to worship at the altar of consumption, at the altar of appearances, at the alter of never criticizing the institution which pays for their daily bread, and their useless toys, and poisonous food, and unhealthy attacks on their intellect and integrity.

But, I speak in generalizations; I speak mythically.

But, because I once knew you, and quite well, because you were always the BEST ANGELA you could be (and you gave this matter more than a little thought - you were kind, caring, sharing, giving, forgiving, nonjudgmental, but oh so brutally honest - as in "the emperor has no clothes" that honesty which the child's eye always sees, and which the child's heart and mind cannot keep silent on -- because the weak are exploited, and this is wrong, and the child always knows right from wrong.

I want you to remember this always:

you made a broken, middle-aged man feel loved
you were a model of what a free spirit this fat, balding,
middle-aged man might become
if only he were to free himself from
the unrewarding job of always trying to please everyone
and in the end pleasing no one,
least of all, his own self

And thus the poet / mystic / wrote: To thine own self be true.

And these words, to me, will always define you.

I am here, as you can see, or

xxxxxxxxxx@yyyyyyyyyy.com (only my most cherished and beloved of friends know of this e-mail)

and still at (847) @@@ - zzzz

And I love to ride the rails on the weekend unlimited rail pass
And thus do I pass through Chicago frequently,
And have come to find many comforting places
And friends who welcome me back again and again

And if you would like me to be your friend (still)
Then I shall be (and I always will)

With Love to you, and ALL You LOVE,
Mark Raymond Ganzer
(VARK)