I’ve got two things on my mind this morning.  That’s not uncommon, right?  One is about the beginning of life and the other about the end.

First, I am very excited to announce that the corn is up!  It is just shooting out of the ground.  I just soaked the seed a few days and planted it last Saturday and the stuff is mostly an inch tall.  Yeh!  Now it is a race with the deer.  I see tracks out there but I don’t think they recognize it as food yet, too small, knock on wood.  The race being get all the fence installed before the deer recognize the tummies.  So this is a story about the beginning of life.  This field was a soggy mess a month ago and now look, new life.

And also, I wanted to give you a letter from author Brian Doyle who passed away recently at 60 from a brain tumor.  My Rebecca saw him at Seattle U at a writer’s conference and raved about him so he is on my radar.  I read one of his books also, although can’t recall the title.  Anyway, it is very elegant and quirky, just the way we like things.

“Dear Coherent Mercy: thanks. Best life ever.

Personally I never thought a cool woman would come close to understanding me, let alone understanding me but liking me anyway, but that happened!

And You and I both remember that doctor in Boston saying polite but businesslike that we would not have children but then came three children fast and furious!

And no man ever had better friends, and no man ever had a happier childhood and wilder brothers and a sweeter sister, and I was that rare guy who not only loved but liked his parents and loved sitting and drinking tea and listening to them!

And You let me write some books that weren’t half bad, and I got to have a career that actually no kidding helped some kids wake up to their best selves, and no one ever laughed more at the ocean of hilarious things in this world, or gaped more in astonishment at the wealth of miracles everywhere every moment.

I could complain a little right here about the long years of back pain and the occasional awful heartbreak, but Lord, those things were infinitesimal against the slather of gifts You gave mere me, a muddle of a man, so often selfish and small. But no man was ever more grateful for Your profligate generosity, and here at the very end, here in my last lines, I close my eyes and weep with joy that I was alive, and blessed beyond measure, and might well be headed back home to the incomprehensible Love from which I came, mewling, many years ago.

But hey, listen, can I ask one last favor? If I am sent back for another life, can I meet my lovely bride again? In whatever form? Could we be hawks, or otters maybe? And can we have the same kids again if possible? And if I get one friend again, can I have my buddy Pete? He was a huge guy in this life–make him the biggest otter ever and I’ll know him right away, okay?

Thanks, Boss. Thanks from the bottom of my heart. See You soon.

Remember–otters. Otters rule. And so: amen.”

OK,   Alperfect once again, beginning and ending loves, Felipe.