August 13, 2001
In God’s name we create

It doesn’t matter how hard I scrub, I’m having a difficult time washing away the pain.
Materialistic values are manmade—what we mourn are the memories up the mountain, and the long car rides that led to places of freedom filled walks and laughter. You and I are about to enter the forest—it was you who took me here the first time. It was you who taught me how to run through the trees, and guaranteed to forever protect this hidden place of play. I can’t imagine you and Jenny out here—I envision a tiny girl, her fuzzy little brother, and that damn big smile of yours glowing brighter than the sun I’ve written with for several years. The wild berries and the roses kept you in love—a chunk of land a normal man threw out, because it wasn’t good enough to build upon. Today, we will walk into that place where you will forever play. We shall forever call it Larry Lane.