Smiling Through

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

“There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in.” - Leonard Cohen

“ What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity.”- George Eliot

“You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

This post-poem also appears on my general blog today. Although many  LGBT readers visit both poetry blogs,  feedback suggests that there are still others who are not quite ready to accept that poetry is all-inclusive, to some degree or another. Whatever, I suspect I am not the only reader who has felt the light go out of their world and let someone's smile turn it on again...

Now, as regular readers will know, I have been treated with hormone therapy for my prostate cancer over a period of a good ten years now; one of the side-effects can be - as it is so for me - regular depression and/or a rising sense of panic whenever even small things go wrong. 

I suspect it may seem worse for older people like myself who live alone, which is maybe why we appreciate acts of kindness so much, as it helps (considerably) to alleviate these symptoms; someone able to spare just a few minutes to talk to you and help calm you down can make all the difference.

Since the pandemic, everyone has been under stress. Here in London, acts of kindness are noticeably in far shorter supply than they were previously. For example, fewer people are willing to pause to help ole Rog when clearly in difficulty or offer a seat on a crowded bus or train, so I have to stand, leaning on my walking stick for support. 

 Whenever anyone does offer me their seat, I thank them, throw them a huge smile, and the light in their eyes suggests it is as much welcome to them as their offer of a seat is to me.

As in many old sayings, there is much truth in the one about kindness bringing its own reward. 

Hopefully, we have seen the worst of Covid-19 and its variants, although there remain hard times ahead as the financial crisis finds so many people struggling to make ends meet.

All any of us can do is keep looking on the brighter, lighter side of life and take comfort in the knowledge that there is always light at the end of even the longest tunnel.

No, never easy, but... we have a choice?

SMILING THROUGH

This heart grew heavy,
loaded down with sadness, a sense
of feeling adrift,
barely keeping afloat for sailing
stormy waters,
struggling to make sense of a life
searching heart-and soul
for that familiar surge of a lively inspiration,
now gone quiet, all but a vacuum

Mind-body-spirit
struggling to rise above such despair
as strikes fear
in the hearts of those of us anxious
to make sense
of a You-Me-Us simply drifting along
having all but lost sight
of who we are any more, not as once we were,
birds of a feather, so happy together

Lately, even the smiles 
on our faces tell lies, trying to disguise
a You-Me-Us fallen apart
over tard times without our noticing,
taking us for granted,
failing to see how we rarely any more
as once we would
fondly reminisce about how we met, fell in love,
caught up in the magic of stars above

So… it came to pass,
we agreed a trial separation needing time
to think us through,
search the remains of who we once were,
try  and see a way clear
to bring You-Me-Us together again, fill 
the Black Hole
we found ourselves a lonely, grieving while apart,.
anxious to reconcile mind-body-spirit

Yes, we courted anew, years falling away, tears too,
a shared heart-and-soul smiling through

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Getting the Better of Stress

 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

"Don’t forget, beautiful sunsets need cloudy skies." – Paulo Coelho

"It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell." - Buddha

"The greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another." - William James

"If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself but to your own estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment." Marcus Aurelius

“No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed an uncharted land or opened a new doorway for the human spirit." - Helen Keller. 

Now, the pandemic has caused many of us to feel more stressed out than perhaps we quite realise. The death of Queen Elizabeth II has also hit many people harder than they quite realise; a seemingly permanent stable influence proven to be but human.

I have to say that, although no die-hard monarchist, I have been further upset to see and hear about protesters; there is a time and a place, surely? Besides most protests relate to political history. Whatever her private thoughts, the late Queen made a point of distancing herself from politics. She was our Head of State, but in name only. More importantly, she was a Woman of the People. The business of governing is down to the Government of the Day.

One of the most remarkable aspects of the late Queen’s reign was that she remained politically neutral,  leaving the rest of us free to admire her, regardless of our ethnicity, sexuality, religion, politics, whatever...

It has always been my view that any protests, wherever in the world and for whatever reason, belong outside its Head of Government's residence or Parliament. 

As for history...well, that is as it is, for better and for worse; a learning curve  (we hope) for the Here-and-Now and future generations.

Whatever its causes (always more than one) stress is awful while it lasts; one of its more positive side-effects, though, is that we may well start asking ourselves why we feel this way and eventually feel motivated to at least making a start in doing something about it. Confiding in someone, even calling a help-line or, better still, letting loved ones and close friends know how we feel and asking for their help and support is a vital first step.

Once having decided to take that first step, even before we have actually carried it through, is invariably the beginning of the end to our distress.

Doing battle with a contrary self-awareness is never easy…But… needs must... as heart-and-soul message mind-body-spirit to get its act together and... wise up?

GETTING THE BETTER OF STRESS

Common sense, losing its voice,
afraid to ask for aid
for fear of being thought weak,
struggling like hell to exit
a gloomy maze, no clear sense
of direction, what little light
fading with every faltering move, 
unable to pray or even convince myself
tomorrow’s another day…

Sick at heart-and soul, no matter
a mind-body-spirit 
urging me to dismiss the demons
haunting, taunting me,
reminding me of happier times
before drowning them
in a sea of loneliness, any happiness
a lost cause, the too-eager fingers of panic
tightening around my neck…

Deep breaths, hold, let go, repeat,
an exercise in hope 
if ever there was one, attempting 
to regain the advantage
over demons, all shapes and sizes,
while, for all their hell-fire,
no less able than the better part of us
to resist counter-attacks by the warring grin
of anyone up for taking them on

Demons, driving me any which way
but loose, unless I dare
call on such life forces as likely
to get the better of them;
namely, love, friendship, guiding lights
come to help rescue me, 
a spirit of do-or-die more hell-bent
on seeing me find a way to rise above it all
than cover for a demon’s fall

Common sense dead set on going walk-about;
Time yet, though, to give someone a shout...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

[NB: This post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today, repeated here especially for new reader, J. V. who asks, " Why do you add relatively few new poems to your gay blog now?" Well, as I have said many times, when I started out, I had good cause to suspect that few if any heterosexual readers would be interested in a gay man's blog. However, I have made a point of publishing gay-interest poems on both blogs from time to time by way of making the point that poetry is for everyone. I am delighted to say that, latterly, feedback suggests that more readers appear to agree and are now dipping into both blogs.] RT

 

 

Tattered Remains OR The Fall and Rise of Mind-Body-Spirit

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

“Sometimes, even to live is an act of courage.” – Lucius Annaeus Seneca (c.4BCE – 65 CE)

A reader asks why I continue to publish post-poems that are not LGBT-specific to his blog. Well, although feedback suggests that more readers access both poetry blogs these days some had emailed to request that I continue to poet any that I might think relevant. Thinking back to my closet years, I am haunted by the image of someone to whom the title of today's poem once fitted lie a glove. 😉

In trying to encourage readers around this mad, Mad, MAD world of ours to take heart in whatever life crisis they may be struggling to overcome, Covid-19 and variants notwithstanding, I have to confess that, at the same time, I am addressing my inner self and, yes, urging it to help me practice what I preach. This is why – and has always been why – poetry as creative therapy has invariably worked for me, even as a schoolboy in a school to which I was not best suited, made to move away from friends I had known since early years and struggling with being gay in an essentially homophobic society, as the UK was (predominantly) then.

Hopefully, some of my poems on this often-repeated theme encourage at least some readers to go into survival mode and (eventually) find an inner peace and happiness that is not only priceless, but meaningful to the individual in such a way that no one – even with the best of intentions - should feel entitled to advise on or judge according to their own standards; sadly, of course, the latter is only too common and too many of us fall for it every time.

So, thanks again. dear readers, for not only dropping by, but also being my inspiration, especially at the moment when I really need to lean on its friendly arm.

Take care, try to stay safe and well, and be sure to continue nurturing a positive-thinking mindset, especially in a crisis.

Hugs,

Roger

TATTERED REMAINS or THE FALL AND RISE OF MIND-BODY-SPIRIT

Worry, worry, worry,
all but getting the better of me,
confusion giving way
to apprehension just for trying
to make sense
of a society struggling to deal
with a global pandemic,
world leaders sending out mixed messages,
having to rely on their scientists

Scientists, in their turn
having to interpret emerging data
as it comes through,
though what it suggests we do
may well conflict
with political aims and policies
declared by this or that
Party in this or that race to convince society
to let it take overall responsibility

Responsibility, a sword
that’s double-edged, spur to ambition,
may well promote
peace and goodwill, at least until
Crisis rears its ugly head
opinions divided as to what to do,
put Party before Society
and bluff it out, or be seen to give priority
to a weary, stressed humanity?

Humanity, left battered
and feeling as if in tatters by pandemic
or governments or both,
yet as loath as ever to concede defeat,
reassembling its life forces
to rise above any growing despair,
restore a positive mindset,
let love and friendships rise above our pain
see us all start over again...

Time, not always on our side at times of need,
but kinder life forces, good friends indeed...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

[Note: Back with another poem soon, a lighter theme, I promise. 😉]

 

 

 

L-I-F-E; Mist, Mountains and Motivation

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

"Our life is what our thoughts make it." -Marcus Aurelius

Gay or straight, none of us are immune to stress, especially at the moment, as the new Omicron variant finds many of us feeling threatened and vulnerable; some, if not many LGBT folks, it will be a familiar journey. Not the same kind of gay-specific poem you will find in the blog archives, true, but I feel it has its place on both blogs. .

I wrote the poem below during my recovery from a nervous breakdown back in the late 1970's. Until now, reading it has always left me depressed as it recalls a period in my life I would much rather forget. Yesterday evening, though, I found myself in something of a perfect storm; computer crashing, TV failing to respond, a rising panic leaving me unable to quite get my thought processes - already in a mess due to years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer - into any kind of order.

After a kind friend had helped me send foe, Panic, into retreat over the telephone, I found myself needing to read the poem again. I recalled someone telling me it was "a load of hackneyed crap" at the time, which had done nothing for my fragile morale. 😉Reading it again now, after nearly two years of the world having to live with Covid-19 and now, another rapidly spreading variant, Omicron, it did not leave me feeling depressed at all. On the contrary, it reassured me that, like everyone else, I have the potential to try and rise above the stress that Covid-19 has imposed. 

Like all of you, I can but try, succeed or fail, do or die, and may mind-body-spirit see us through this stress, just as it did yours truly 40+ years ago. My choice, and I decided to GO for it; already, I could feel my panic retreating, no victory in sight, but the potential for it was there and my depleted energy levels all but restored. I feel much the same now, a positive-thinking mindset well and truly in place.

I rarely sleep well, but last night I slept better than I had for a long time...

L-I-F-E: MIST, MOUNTANS AND MOTIVATION

I creep up on you unawares
over periods of time as the going
shifts from gentle slope
to steep hill, until it starts to feel
like there’s a mountain
to climb, its peak shrouded in mist
as if acknowledging
a nagging fear that an enemy is near
if not already here...

At the peak, the scary mist
emanating half-forgotten faces
I can barely place,
whose names long since forgotten
in mists of time, no less
scary for reminding me who I am,
even yet could be,
left wondering why mind-body-spirit
gone eerily quiet...

Tempted, to leap into space
rather than risk descending, ending
all pretence at living,
better to die now – and prove what?
That it has counted for nothing,
this endless searching for something
and getting nowhere fast?
Suddenly, mind-body-spirit finds its voice,
“Do or die, your choice...”

A global challenge, Choice. Do we, nurture
or give up on our past-present-future...?

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

.

On Waking Up (or not) To Fact and Fiction

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

I will be 76 later this year and was very saddened, only recently, to hear that the grandson of an old school friend had died of a drugs overdose; he was just 23 years-old and had been an addict since his mid-teens. His younger brother had also experimented with drugs, but not to the same extent and a period in rehab saved him from becoming permanently addicted; he even went on to achieve a university degree, and is now happily settled with his partner and  a job he loves. 

I guess wanting to be free of any addiction is not enough, it has to be fuelled by a sense of purpose. 

Years ago, I asked a former drug addict what, for him, had been the attraction of drugs. I expected him to say for the thrill of it. Instead, he answered with one word, “Escapism.” I understood the principle only too well, having been an avid reader of fiction since early childhood by way of escaping from certain realities with which, for the life of me, I couldn’t get to grips, including aspects of myself that I didn’t have the experience to understand and made me feel uncomfortable; during my formative years, these included an undiagnosed hearing loss and untreated speech defect. Later, I would have to deal with being gay, a fact from which family and society attitudes in those days compelled me to run away for nearly twenty years. 

A brief stay in Australia in the late 1960’s was a form of escapism. I felt guilty and cowardly until I met an old aboriginal man with whom I shared confidences I had bottled up for years. “There is no shame in running away,” he told me, “Sometimes we need to run away to find out just what it is we’re running away from. Only then can we decide to tackle it head-on or keep running. Waste of a life, running away. It can only ever end in tears... or worse, much worse...” he added thoughtfully. 

Indeed, it can, and I owe that man my life because I was offered drugs only a few days later, by which time I was able to refuse, having made up my mind to clear up the mess I’d made of my life so far, and stop running. A week earlier, I may well have been desperate enough to choose one of the worst forms of escapism, not uncommon among those of us made to feel but ‘losers’ by personal circumstances that, as likely as not, would see us fail to rise above its growing pains. 

ON WAKING UP (OR NOT) TO FACT AND FICTION 

Bright and sunny my days
in the park where once I loved to play
among peers of yesteryear,
relieved just to put any worries on hold,
leave reality behind awhile,
relaxed and happy in the company
of friends, left to explore
brave new worlds of such inspired imagination
as lent us a temporary freedom 

Dark clouds threatening rain
would send us running hell for leather
to find any shelter on hand,
still concerned with keeping reality at bay
a growing anxiety taking hold
of a mind-body-spirit, too easily tempted
by mixed growing pains
to explore the potential of other makeshift worlds
by way of latch-key passwords 

The passage of time grown dark
and scary, the only sure relief on hand
at the prick of a needle,
lending me all the thrills of such yesteryears
as would have had me access
a kinder world than ill-met by sunny days
offering a temporary freedom
from stormy weather, mind-body-spirit left to fight
that incorrigible demon, hindsight 

Alone in the park where once I so loved playing,
just another druggie, no happy ending 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.] RNT

Not (Quite) Anonymous

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber 

A  reader who dips into both poetry blogs has asked that I post the poem here as a close friend is having "...mental problems, probably related to all the safety precautions imposed during the pandemic..."

In some ways, this post-poem continue the debate on mental well-being that my poem 'Puzzles, Puzzlers and Halfway Houses' (see general poetry blog) hoped to open, not least because the pandemic will have taken its toll on the mental as well as physical well-being of many of us across the world; a subject which too few of us are willing to consider, let alone discuss. It may not be an LGBT-specific poem, but as I have said so often before, a poem is a poem, attempting to address a common humanity - of which we LGBT folks are a part, whatever anyone else may have to say... 

Now, we are all comprised of many parts, such is the complexity of most if not all human beings as we run a daily gamut of emotions, positives and negatives, often having to struggle to beat off the latter in order to give the former a clear run. Many of us succeed most of the time; sometimes, though, other considerations take their toll. In mind-body-spirit, it is mind that’s likely to start feeling the stress of everyday struggles the most, despite assurances from an innate spirit that all will be well; as for the human body, it so wants to believe all its spirit urges, but our minds may well have other ideas…

It is always worth the struggle, just to let the human spirit win through, get professional counselling if possible. Family and friends may well be supportive, but they are no more likely to understand the psychology behind what is happening to us than we are ourselves; nail the underlying reasons, and we stand a good chance of configuring solutions.

Sadly, for some of us, everyday life is never (quite) enough; we need to find a way to bridge the gap between the personae we present to the world and who we are. Most people make a good job of just that, more than simply tapping into the Happy-Ever-After ethic, but actually living it, despite the usual ups and downs of everyday life. Others pursue the dream, never (quite) make it, but remain content if not (quite) happy enough to settle for what they have. Yet others…well they remain caught between emotional rocks and hard places, but prefer to pretend otherwise, thereby succeeding in (almost) convincing themselves (and others) that all’s well in their personal space, so...no worries...!

Sharing an emotional as well as any other problem with a trusty confidante is always a good idea; it not only halves the burden in helping to bring it into focus, but openly acknowledging its very existence has to be a good start, too, in helping to find a solution if only because we are no longer having to muddle through on our own.

NOT (QUITE) ANONYMOUS

No one ever (quite) gets to know me,
although some may like to think they do,
for whatever it is I've let them see;
no one ever (quite) understands my reality,
though some may yet get to find
and follow clues left in prose and poetry;
no one ever (quite) gets close to me
sufficiently to hear just what the mind-body
takes for a sense of spirituality 

No one ever (quite) understands a self
in me that certain other selves do their best
to put down, even bully into agreeing
motions no joint mind-body-spirit inspires
only certain rogue elements reluctant
to ever accept any such majority decisions 
that exclude them from personal space,
has them force a different pace, leave its host
(that's me) to do its best...or worst 

No one ever (quite) gets to unearth in me
such roots as only ever sought to grow, flower
forever in a loved one’s own eternity;
no one ever (quite) gets a response from me
along lines of any mistakes I've made,
abandoned to shallow graves in living memory;
hopefully, some may come to think of me, 
once I am no more, see that any kinder parts
have as great a say in my history...

I am that life-force driving humanity’s choices
to lend mind-body-spirit its truer voices

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

 

Hello again, from London UK

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Hello again, from London UK

No poem today, but I hope to have one ready for you fairly soon. I don't expect everyone to like every poem, of course, but I feel encouraged that many of you continue to stick with this struggling senior as, like many of you, I struggle with all the changes in everyday life that the coronavirus has imposed. 

A reader asks if I practise what I preach with regard to nurturing a positive mindset. Well, I do my best and manage to do so most of the time, but like all of us, I have good days and bad days.  I can only speak from the perspective of an old codger living alone; different people will have different problem. Partners will have each other to share any difficulties with, but in the kind of circumstances imposed on us by the coronavirus, tempers may well fray. Families will have encountered a different spectrum of problems altogether, especially those with young children. For many if not most  older children and young people, not being able to mix with friends and peers will have been a waking nightmare.

Now, living alone and growing old ain't easy at the best of times. Everything takes so much longer and I get tired so much more easily. Everyday tasks - like stripping a bed and turning a mattress - are a challenge; it takes me ages to replace a duvet cover now too.😊

I coped well with the first lockdown here in the UK, but the latter stages of the second were a nightmare. I often felt lonely, and scared too, a though the latter has more to do with the hormone therapy for my prostate cancer as it can have that effect on some people sometimes. An ear infection and mobility problems haven't helped. So, how do I cope with it all...? Well, better some days than others, that's for sure.😉 

I try to keep reminding myself that there are so many people in the world so much worse off than myself, some of whom I know personally. I tell myself that if they can cope, so can I. Writing up the blogs and posting poems when I can has been a godsend; it distracts me not only from my own problems, but the whole coronavirus scenario. I think everyone needs to find ways of distracting themselves from any personal problems anyway  (coronavirus or no coronavirus) whether it's pursuing a hobby or just watching a favourite video/ TV programme. Me, I avoid News programmes apart from catching up with the headlines. While I am interested and concerned about what else  is going on in the mad, mad world of ours...there is just so much a person can take when so much of it is so depressing.

Now, although lockdown restrictions are being lifted here in the UK, we still have to deal with the threat of a so-called Indian variant, already prevalent in parts. Yet again, all we can do is take care, and (yes!) nurture a positive thinking mindset. We won't always succeed, but just trying can make all the difference.

As I have said on past blogs, I honestly think a healthy diet is a huge help when it comes to dealing with stress.

At the end of the day, of course, we are all different and needs must find our own way through our own waking nightmares. As my mother used to say, though, we should never be afraid to ask for help, never think anyone will think the worse of us for doing so. Each of us, in our own way is, vulnerable; if counselling is not an option and there is no close friend on hand or at the end of a telephone, call The Samaritans. Even simply talking (or writing) about our worst fears can give us an entirely new perspective on them. If I had confided my problems with being a gay man so someone years earlier, I may well have avoided a nasty nervous breakdown in early 30's.

What else can I say for now but... good luck everyone, and bear in mind that most of the time it's down to each and every one of us to make our own luck... or not, as the case may be.

Take care, everyone, and many thanks for dropping by.

Hugs,

Roger

PS In the course of transferring about 1000 poems to a memory stick (so far unpublished except on the blogs) I have significantly revised more earlier poems that you will find in the blog archives. Do feel free to browse now and then, and I hope any revisions (including some titles) will meet with your approval...but won't be offended if they don't. 😉

[Note: This post also appears on my general blog today. Oh, and many, many thanks to the reader from Spain who emailed to say that he has enjoyed working his way through through my fiction blog "... as well as both poetry blogs." It has made my day,] RNT

Forgiven

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Today’s (new) poem was inspired by a tale of two old friends of mine, lovers for years, having made it up after a nasty tiff; the tiff itself, probably made all the worse by the tension we are all feeling during this awful pandemic.

 FORGIVEN

A masked man sat near me
in a bar, and social distancing with his body
while getting up close
with wide blue eyes dispensing with any need
for words 

I found myself listening to eyes
enabling words of love to pierce cloth ears,
invade my personal space,
take my heart prisoner, be sure I catch the sob
in its voice 

Any resistance on my part, futile
from the start, those eyes long since engraved
on a mind-body-spirit
regretting harsh words spoken in the rising heat
of a moment 

As I swam in those beautiful eyes,
waves lapping intimately at all parts of me,
it was like a homecoming,
all your senses and mine embracing a missed-you
kind of greeting 

The masked man drained his glass,rose
and headed for the exit without looking back,
nor was there any need;
four eyes had said all there was to say, two bodies
left on love to feed 

Back home, masks off, in a bubble
of comfortable silence, we ate a meal abandoned
in rage, now forgotten,
tucking in, confident of glorious days ahead for our
having been forgiven

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Take care, folks, and try not to let Covid stress get to you even if looking on the bright(er) side of life requires peering through an emotional fog to find it,

Hugs,

Roger 

[Note a gay-friendly married couple insisted I post this poem on my general blog as well today on the grounds that "It will probably ring a bell with couples worldwide, gay or straight ...]

Between Friends OR Shades of Light and Dark

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

I once had a friend who became a heroin addict in his late teens and died from an overdose in 1967. 

My friend was 22 and happened to be gay, but drug abuse is a tragedy for too many young people – gay, straight, male, female, from all kinds of backgrounds - and there is still too little help available. To be honest, I was more than a little in love with him although he only ever saw me as a friend.  I still dream about him sometimes, and felt compelled to write this poem if only in remembrance of a great guy who took a wrong turning and was found lying in a gutter one day ...

I have known (and still do) people to whom taking hard drugs is socially acceptable, a trait encouraged by a drugs-friendly celebrity culture frequently in the media spotlight and setting an appalling example.

  

BETWEEN FRIENDS or SHADES OF LIGHT AND DARK

Under a halo of sudden light

a familiar figure beckons;

looks, sure to win the Devil over;

designer gear any angel would give

their wings for

Laugher lines in the classic brow,

enigmatic poise teasing me

even now as into the clinging dew,

I run barefoot,

hug anew this pouting saint

to a sobbing breast…

Laughter, through tears for years parted,

brokenhearted…

Catching my breath, no nearer it seems

to this golden haired god

in jeans I’ve borrowed times before,

reaching out a hand,

indulging me a bitter-sweet smile

that means so much I’d give my all

to touch…

Lark into dawn skies, vanished;

a bitter-sweet song,

no listener (ever) left unpunished;

lives as fresh and hopeful as spring rain

till you tried heroin

Copyright R. N. Taber 1974, 2000

[From: Love and Human Remains (under the title, Between Friends) by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000]