From That Point On

Ah, my soft feather, I recall our moments:

Sharing a halved pomelo.

Placing our hands together on a defunct cannon at the sea wall.

Stone walls echoing our footfalls as we explored Intramuros.

Dangling our feet in the clear pool in the tower above Global City.

 

I now measure everything against seeing you

wearing a white dress.

And when I am not with you,

I consider what to say when I see you next.

 

Eventually, I may run out of things to say.  From that point on,

I ask that you simply hold me.

—Mitchell Hegman

For Desiree

Watching Deer

Wrapped in a blanket—as my boiler and an array of electric heaters pump warm into the well-lighted spaces inside my house—I stand at a window watching a pair of mule deer traverse the snowy, subzero landscape.

Even out there in the windswept elements, the deer don’t require a blanket wrapped around them.

Deer are not pussies.

Me?  I am considering an electric blanket.

—Mitchell Hegman

Temperature: Defining the Meaning of Cold

Desiree has never seen snow or experienced below-freezing temperatures.  Now that winter has found me, we often talk about cold weather and snow during our video calls.  If snow is falling, I press my phone against the nearest window so she can watch it sift down around my house.

During an early-morning call yesterday, I mentioned I had a temperature of -3° Fahrenheit.   “Temperatures like that are hard to fathom sometimes,” I added.  “For one thing, that’s colder than the freezer in my refrigerator.  I think most freezers are set for something near zero degrees Fahrenheit.”  

“That’s cold,” Desiree agreed.  “My sister said she’s getting cold weather, also.”

“Which sister?”

“The one in Bahrain.”

“Cold?”

“They get cold winds from Europe in the winter.”

Associating cold with Bahrain (a mass of land in the Persian Gulf) proved difficult for me.  I was sitting near my computer as we chatted on my phone.  “Let me check the weather forecast in Bahrain,” I suggested.  “I want to see how cold it will be there today.”

A few taps at my keyboard delivered the forecast for Manama, Bahrain, to my computer screen.  The expected high for Manama: 70°.  The expected low: 63°.

“Your sister’s cold day is the temperature inside my house right now,” I told Desiree.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Many Faces of Coca-Cola

Coca-Cola is caustic.  You can use it as an agent to unclog drains.  You can also enlist Coke to help lift stains from your toilet bowl.  Just pour a couple cans of the stuff in your toilet and let it percolate for an hour so be before scrubbing and rinsing.  In theory, exposure to enough fresh Coca-Cola for an extended period of time will dissolve a copper penny.

And I was told by a concrete finisher you can sabotage a concrete pour by slipping a bit of Coke in the mix.  “The concrete won’t set,” the finisher told me.  I didn’t ask if he ever put this to a test.

Coca-Cola has an interesting history, too.  By interesting, I mean dope is involved.

A pharmacist from Atlanta, Georgia, named John Pemberton first concocted Coca-Cola in 1885. Pemberton’s original recipe contained cocaine in the form of an extract of the coca leaf.  The “Coca” half of the beverage’s name is a reflection of this ingredient. The “Cola” tag is derived from the kola nut (which contains caffeine).

The first generation of Coke was marketed as a ‘temperance drink’ and intended as something marginally medicinal.  Temperance drinks were proposed as non-alcohol options for beverages with a kick.

At present, Coca-Cola is the world's most popular caffeinated soft drink.

I must admit, I would like to try a glass or two of the first-generation Coca-Cola.

—Mitchell Hegman

Sunroom Squiggles

While my brother-in-law was visiting on Christmas day, he helped me install three “squiggles” in my sunroom.  He acted as my ‘Kevin’ and temporarily supported the squiggles while I fastened them in place.

I custom made my squiggles from ½-inch electrical conduit and 4-inch octagon junction boxes.  To fabricate them, I developed four 90-degree bends on each section of conduit, attached the boxes, and painted everything to match the bronze sunroom structure.

When I finish with the squiggles, each box will support a dimmable LED light source.  I am currently shopping for lights.   I am hoping to find low-profile LED puck lights not much larger diameter than the boxes.  I have not found anything to satisfy me yet.

To be continued…

Working Out the Kinks

Fiddling With Layout

Squiggles in Place

—Mitchell Hegman

Emergency Toy Repair

My sister gave me a set of Magic Tracks (with a car) for Christmas.  The track glows in the dark and is appropriate for me because it is intended for kids ages 3+.  Unfortunately, after assembling the track and installing batteries in the car, I could not get the car to run.

When my brother-in-law, Terry, arrived at my house at midday, I retrieved a few tools and a digital multimeter so we could troubleshoot the car.

The problem was obviously electrical.  Between the two of us we had a fighting chance to fix the car.  We have reasonable skills.  Terry worked as phone company technician.   I was an electrician.

After a few minutes of poking at the car, it started running when I attempted taking a voltage measurement across the batteries.  We soon discovered a poor connection point at the end of one of the batteries.  The car would run if I forced the battery against the terminal with the test probe of my meter.

“Something is goofy,” I said, “the battery won’t connect.”

“Tin foil,” Terry suggested.  “Maybe a wad of foil at the battery terminal so we can make a connection.”

“Brilliant!”

NASA and Apollo 13 have nothing on us.

Ten minutes later, my little car was performing victory laps—thanks to a tiny wad of foil.

Working on the Car

Victory Lap Video

—Mitchell Hegman

A Christmas Story

I received an incredible Christmas present this year.  I am talking about a gift so desirable a movie was made about it.  You have likely watched the movie: A Christmas Story.

If you have never watched A Christmas Story, you have an opportunity today.  TBS and TNT will be airing the movie repeatedly throughout the day today, as has become a Christmas tradition.

In the movie, Ralphie, the main character, wants an authentic Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle for Christmas.  It’s a big deal.  The entire story revolves around Ralphie’s desire for the air rifle.

Last summer, the Wedll family spent a couple days with me at the cabin.  The kids brought along their Red Ryder air rifles.  We spent a good part of our time setting up and pinking down aluminum cans, empty juice boxes, and a plastic jug.

Red Rider rifles are surpassingly accurate and I sincerely enjoyed target shooting with the BB guns.  I mentioned I might need to get one for myself.

The other day, I received a message from the Wedll’s that I needed to stop by and fetch a Christmas present they had gotten for me.  I picked up my gift on the 23^rd.   I laughed when Becky handed me a long and thin wrapped package.  “I know what that is!” I told her.

Yep.  My very own Red Ryder.

Today, I got a chance to hold my new rifle.

Thank you, Carolyn, Jack, and Nick!  You have made me one very happy kid!

The Gift Fully Wrapped

My Red Ryder Air Rifle

—Mitchell Hegman

Weird Science

• The strongest creatures on Earth are gonorrhea bacteria.  A gonorrhea bacterium has the ability to pull 100,000 times its own body weight.
• An octopus has nine brains and three hearts.  The primary brain is where all the real thinking takes place.  But an octopus also has eight ancillary brains—each located at the base of an arm. The arms may independently function and can, for instance, figure out how to open a shellfish while the primary brain might be thinking about what’s for dessert. Two of an octopus’s three hearts work exclusively with the animal’s gills, while the third keeps circulation flowing for the organs. When an octopus swims, the organ heart temporarily stops beating.
• Human stomach acid is powerful stuff.  It can dissolve metal.   In a study published in the journal Gastrointestinal Endoscopy, scientists found that the “thickened back of a single-edged blade” dissolved after only two hours of immersion in stomach acid.
• Rats are among only 65 species of animals with the ability to laugh in some form.

—Mitchell Hegman

SOURCE:  https://list25.com, https://www.rd.com, https://www.zmescience.com

My Hoya is Making a Move

My hoya plant originated by means of a start clipped from a plant my grandmother brought into her home in the 1940’s.  Over the last thirty-some years, the hoya has grown at a relatively slow pace.

Something over a year ago, the plant accelerated in growth.  Runners reached out from the plant and attempted twining around anything within reach.  To “manage” the plant. I provided a few temporary footholds on the trim around the nearest window.

The hoya eagerly latched onto the footholds and wove itself into a leafy mat.

In just the last few of days, the plant has made more conspicuous moves.  New tendrils have reached out.  One of the tendrils seems to be seeking to grab me as I sit on my sofa.  That tendril has reached nearly three feet out into the air.

When I fully complete the sunroom, I intend to provide a lattice for the hoya there.  The rate of growth I am seeing now is impressive.  I worry the hoya might reach into the sunroom before I am finished with it.

My Hoya

Tendril Reaching Out

—Mitchell Hegman

Challenges

It’s a challenge to walk through a children’s cancer ward and believe in an all-loving God at the same time.

It’s difficult to perceive a glass three-quarters filled with water as half-empty, but many of us are up for that challenge.

—Mitchell Hegman

Melting Ice (Then and Now)

One wintery morning many years ago, a coworker opened a conversation (somewhat excitedly) with this: “Hey, Mitch, have you ever listened to ice melting?”

I stood there blinking for a few moments.   “No, Rodney, I can’t say that I have.”

“It’s way more awesome than you might think.”

“I’m sure it is…”  I blinked a few more times.  “So, what are you talking about?”

Rodney leaned in.  “I threw some ice melt on my sidewalk and then stood there listening.  It makes weird sounds when it melts the ice.  You need to try it sometime.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” I said in amusement.

Cut now to yesterday afternoon.

No, I didn’t listen to ice melt.  But I did do the next weirdest thing.  I watched ice melting off the glass in my sunroom.  And, yes, I am going to say this: “Watching ice melt is far more entertaining than you might think.”

I have posted three photographs of the melting ice as seen from my sunroom.

—Mitchell Hegman

Housecat Report

My 20 pounds of housecat is mad at you.

Not just you.  My cat as mad at all humans.  Me included.

Winter hit my house full-on yesterday.  We are talking snow drifting against my back door and whiteout conditions at every window.

I recognized all of us were headed for trouble when my cat sauntered over to the back door so I could let him out.  “It’s not good, Buddy,” I told him.  “You won’t like it out there.  We have winter in the works.  I mean drifts and everything.”

The problem here stems from the fact my cat is convinced the weather—since it is directly connected to the door—is a human construct.  In simple terms, we are responsible for the weather.  And he hates winter.

Yesterday, snow drifts and all, I opened the door to let him out.  Naturally, he took a step back and laid back his ears.  And then I did a bad thing…I scooted him outside and shut the door.

So, expect a bit of attitude from him next time you are here, you dirty dogs.

—Mitchell Hegman

Random Observations

• Humility never goes out of style.
• The smarter my phone gets, the dumber I get.
• In the long run, there is little difference between a pack of cigarettes and a pack of wolves.
• Sitting on your television’s remote may lead to better viewing opportunities.
• In the human construct, fragility is a function of sentiment, not structure.
• The most striking frogs and the most striking mushrooms are deadly.  Don’t assume that trait stops there.
• Calves naturally wean themselves at around ten months.  Some humans suck for their entire life.

—Mitchell Hegman

Sometimes, You Need a Kevin

To the best of my knowledge, the first Kevin was fashioned by Leo St. Clair in the 1960s.  For anyone unfamiliar, a Kevin is a device used to hold one end of something in place while you work on the other end.

The first generation of Kevins was, literally, Kevin.  Leo would enlist his son, Kevin to help him hold something in place while he measured or fastened it in place.

When the real Kevin was not available, Leo took to making various widgets to hold in place all manner of building materials or mechanical contrivances.  

I tend to do a lot of building projects by myself.  I have learned to make a few Kevins of my own.

For the last couple days, I have been installing the metal soffit material inside my sunroom.  The ten-foot lengths of J-channel are impossible to hold in place while fastening at one end (as is necessary for a proper fit).

I needed a Kevin to hold the lengths in position.  Additionally, the Kevin needed to allow me to shift the metal back and forth a little.

Today, I am posting photographs of my Kevin.

Simple, but it works.

My Kevin

My Kevin in Place

—Mitchell Hegman

This Jigsaw Puzzle Is Not for Everyone

I think we can accurately make claim that some jigsaw puzzles are more difficult than others.  For one thing, difficulty is directly associated with the number of pieces.  The more pieces, the more difficult.  Puzzles with constantly repeating patterns and puzzles with only subtle color variances are also tricky.

While poking around online to find a few new puzzles to help me work through the darkest days of winter, I chanced upon a winner in the difficulty department.

Judging by the photograph of the puzzle provided, the puzzle doesn’t appear terribly difficult.

I mean…it’s just a frog.

The age recommendation for the puzzle, however, tells another story.

I have posted an image of the puzzle and associated text I snipped from the sales site so you can see for yourself what I found.

Difficult Jigsaw Puzzle

—Mitchell Hegman

When You Find What You Need in Chaos

I don’t want to say Leo’s shop is a study in chaos.

Wait.

Yes, I do.

Leo’s shop is a study in chaos.

But we are talking about a remarkable, if not admirable, chaos.  For one thing, the shop holds at least one (and likely two) of everything.  The mass of tools and pieces-parts is impressive.  We are talking bins of tools, stratified layers of fasteners, and heaps of elbowed things.

In one spot you might find engine parts and sprinkler system widgets stacked together in a manner that would impress Chinese acrobats.  In another, a single box holds incandescent light bulbs, ¾-inch nuts and bolts, a dear antler, a length of plastic pipe, and small engine parts.

My favorite corner of the shop makes me wonder if Leo lived by the motto: “You can’t have too many broken weedwhackers.”

Sadly, Leo is gone.  He qualified, in my estimation, as a brilliant mechanic.  He understood everything about everything.   Leo’s son, Kevin (Toad), now “manages” the place.  These days, we often call Leo’s shop “The Toadworks.”

A few days ago, called Kevin.  “I need a couple romex connectors,” I told him.   “Mind if I take a look in the shop?”

 “I’ll meet you there.”

It took some digging, but eventually I found two connectors inside a jar deep inside in a box filled with whatnot.

I held the connectors out and announced: “Thank you once again, Leo!”

Romex Connectors

—Mitchell Hegman

Morning Report: December 15, 2021

Time: 4:13 in the morning.

Full blue-black darkness outside with a temperature of 26°F. 

Last evening, at dusk, a small collection of snowflakes circled my house before darting off to land someplace else.   This morning, I can report authentic snow on my deck—something near two inches of the stuff.

In weird news, a sudden uptick in worldwide demand for maple syrup led the Quebec Maple Syrup Producers organization to release 50 million pounds of its strategic maple syrup reserves.  I never imagined the Canadians needed a maple syrup reserve.  Turns out, Quebec produces 70% of the world's maple syrup.

It’s a big deal, eh.

Closer to home, I discovered that unscrambling “bnileb” will yield the word “nibble.”

End of morning report.

—Mitchell Hegman

Christmas Made Easy

While my little sister and I were texting the other day, she sent a half-dozen photographs of her Christmas decorations.  She and her husband festooned lights and baubles both inside and outside their house.   We are talking extensive stuff here: a herd of reindeer, a lightshow projecting against the house, lights in the shrubs, a fancy tree inside, a lighted Christmas village, and more.  “A lot of work!” she noted after the photographs.

“Wow!” I responded.

I reciprocated by sending her a photograph of my tree.

“How long did it take you to decorate your tree?” she texted.

“I store it fully decorated,” I responded.  “Took me one minute.”

I was not kidding my sister.   I store my tree fully decorated in a closet.  When the Holiday Season rolls around, I drag the tree out and plunk it down on the fake mantel of my fake fireplace.

“There!” I announce.  “Merry Christmas, kids.”

My Christmas Tree

—Mitchell Hegman

Russian Sage

I have a Russian sage plant growing near my hot tub. 

Russian sage is not a true sage and is not in the family of our ever-present sagebrush, either.  Sage is an outdoor ornamental plant—a hardy one at that.  This ornamental is not opposed to dry and hot summers and cold winters.

Russian sage blooms in the heat of summer and it blooms for an extended time.  When in full-bloom, the plant resembles lavender, but the flower color leans a little harder on purple than lavender does.

Bees love it.

The most distinctive feature about Russian Sage, though, is the aroma.  If the scent of a rose is like a woman singing an alluring song of love, the scent of Russian sage is a full-on marching band surrounding you. 

We are talking loud here.

Rubbing either the leaves or flowers of sage into your palm will produce powerful waves of sensation.  “Big medicine,” I call it.  The scent is sharp, but earthy, and, in my mind, pleasant.

The other day, I cut down the dead stalks from this year’s growth.  That, too, enveloped me with big medicine.  My final sensation of summer.

Russian Sage

—Mitchell Hegman

A Tale from Our Parallel Universe

Somehow, I ended up in our parallel universe.  You know what I am talking about—a world coexisting with us that is almost exactly like this one but with a few fundamental differences.

The parallel universe I entered into had one particularly bizarre difference from ours.

The difference has to do with socks 

In our universe, socks sometimes disappear in the clothes dryer.  For all I know, the missing socks could be crossing over into our parallel universe.  I don’t know the appropriate math for either proving or disproving this.

While I was caught up in the parallel universe, I washed and dried a batch of laundry.  When I pulled the pile of clothing out from the dryer, I found the strangest thing.  One pair of my socks had collected and folded themselves together while tumbling around inside the machine.  They were folded together in a fashion similar to what I do before stuffing them in my dresser.

I know for a fact the socks were in “singles mode” when I washed them because I removed a bur seedpod from one of them before washing.

Disappointingly, I soon discovered the rest of my house is just as messy in our parallel universe as it is in this one.

My Socks Fresh from the Dryer

—Mitchell Hegman

My Epic Fail

Somewhat regularly, I do something to prove I am an idiot.

On the first of December, I dumped the pieces of a 4700-piece jigsaw puzzle I inherited from my sister onto my dining room table.  My sister worked on the puzzle sporadically for something near a dozen years, but never entirely pieced it together.

I managed to glean the edge pieces and sort the other pieces into piles based on color.  Following that, (because I lack space for spreading out the entire array) I shoveled most of the piles into plastic bags for later processing one bag at a time. 

I next started piecing together the green edge pieces, the yellow pieces, and the orange pieces.  I alternated between assembling the edge and working on the other colors.

This is the point where we insert my idiocy.

Night before last, while working on yellow and orange, I tipped over a glass of red wine on the table.  A deep red tsunami surged though the puzzle pieces spread out before me.

Although I tried to clean up the mess as quickly as possible, hundreds of pieces almost instantly discolored into a mushy gray.  Half of them also swelled to three times the thickness of the normal pieces.

Yesterday, I swept the puzzle pieces back into the box for long-term storage.

Sorted Pieces

Soggy Pieces

—Mitchell Hegman

The Singleton

I enjoy sipping at a small glass of Scotch near the end of the day.

If you are not a Scotch drinker, I can tell you most of what you need to know about Scotch in one sentence.  Here is the sentence: Scotch is expensive.

I might mention a couple other details as well.  For one thing, Scotch is a “whisky,” not a “whiskey.”  No “e” is required here.   Aging is another important detail.  The longer Scotch is finished (aged) in wooden casks, the smoother and more flavorful the end product.  And, as luck would have it, the longer the whisky is aged, the more expensive the purchase price.

Additionally, there are five types of Scotch: single malt, single grain, blended malt (formerly called "vatted malt" or "pure malt"), blended grain, and blended.  I don’t want to wander out into the weedy details here.  Let’s simply say (for today) the taste varies greatly between and within each category of Scotch.  Each distillery has its own twist on flavor.  Some offer distinctly “smoky” flavors.   Others are earthy or “peaty” in taste.

I am a fan of well-aged single malts.

Today, I bring you The Singleton, an 18-year-old, single malt Scotch.  For the first years of the finishing process, this whisky is aged inside casks previously used for aging Bourbon.  The second stretch of finishing is done inside ex-Sherry casks.  This latter stretch of aging makes for something very near a sweet taste at the very end of each sip.

This is my first bottle of The Singleton.  I am not opposed to a second bottle.

—Mitchell Hegman

Rules That Apply to Everyday Life

• Making the life of your friends and family better is the only sure way to make your life better.
• If you have time to be bored, you have time to read.
• As long as you remain upright, you haven’t failed.
• Embrace your weirdness.
• Prepare breakfast as though you really mean it.
• When the weather gets bad, remember, you are not the weather.
• Live your life acknowledging that everywhere you go, you leave tracks.

—Mitchell Hegman

Robin Hooding

The chances of a person dying in an elevator accident are 1 in 10.5 million.  Surprisingly, this translates into something near 30 such deaths each year in the United States.

I recently read (at archerypassion.com) that the chances of Robin Hooding an arrow—you know splitting one arrow with another—are 1 in 4000.  Not sure about that.  Those odds seem glaringly optimistic to me, but I will run with them.

So, here is my question: What are the chances of being struck by an arrow while in an elevator?

—Mitchell Hegman

A Creepy Creature from the Cave

Spiders are creepy in an obvious way.  Just look at them.  They have too many legs, eight eyes, and big fangs.  Additionally, they are ambush killers by nature.

Beetles aren’t creepy because they are slow and deliberate.  They are akin to clumsy little robots.  And beetles have a more appropriate number of legs.

Until yesterday, my view of crickets was entirely positive.  I like a good jumper.  And you have to admire an insect that can carry a tune.

Well, turns out there is creepy kind of cricket—a type of cave cricket.  I read about this type of cricket yesterday.  The creepiness has to do with food.     

Crickets are omnivores and scavengers by nature.  They will eat most anything.  But the cave cricket has taken an “open” diet to the extreme.  If times are lean, the crickets will begin cannibalizing one another, which is a little disturbing.  Creepier yet, if times are downright desolate, a cave cricket will tear off one of its own hind legs and eat it.

This practice could be somewhat reasonable if the leg regenerated.  In the case of the cave cricket, the leg is gone for good.

—Mitchell Hegman

Connections to a Killer

 

Courtney Atlas mystified me.  I found him odd in a way I could not fully describe.  I met him in 1976 through Donna Atlas, his wife.  Donna was my supervisor at the Montana State Health Department Laboratory. 

Courtney didn’t have a regular job when I met him.  I asked Donna about that one day. “He lives by his wits,” Donna told me.   What that meant, I eventually determined, is he relied on money siphoned from his wealthy mother.  Even given that, he would not so much as shovel snow from his mother’s sidewalk on Helena’s Southside.

Donna asked me to do that for her mother-in-law.  And I did.

When I mentioned something about Courtney to someone a few years older than me, they immediately responded with this: “He killed Pam Dorrington.  But the police were never able to prove it.”

Pam disappeared in February of 1968.  Part of her body appeared in the water near the docks at the Gates of the Mountains in June of that year.  Courtney was Pam’s landlord at the time of her murder.

One Thursday in 1977, I received a call from the Montana Electrical JATC (the apprenticeship program).  If I wanted to start an electrician’s apprenticeship, I needed to quit my job at the state and show up at a local electrical shop on Monday.  I told the program director I would call him on Friday with a firm answer on that.

When I arrived at work on Friday, I told Donna about the call.  “To begin an apprenticeship,” I informed her, “I have to quit working here today.  I don’t feel right about doing that.”

Donna didn’t hesitate.  “It’s an opportunity, Mitch.  Don’t worry about this place.  You call and tell them you will be there on Monday.”

I didn’t see much of Donna after that Friday.  In 1983, Donna perished when her house burned down the foundation.   Her charred body was discovered in the basement.

“Courtney killed her,” I announced to myself.

The following year, Courtney was convicted of Donna’s murder and sentenced to 100 years in prison.

A couple days ago, I read in our local newspaper where Courtney, from his prison cell, finally admitted to killing Pam Dorrington.  He sexually assaulted her after she was dead and dismembered her body before disposing of it.

Not merely an odd man.  An evil man.

Courtney Atlas

—Mitchell Hegman

PHOTO: htttps://helenair

Class Connections

Last Thursday, the “boys” from my eighth-grade class of 1970 gathered for something of a reunion at the Missouri River Brewing Company in East Helena, Montana.

Most of us are retired now.  Seeing everyone together in one spot again was remarkable.  These people are not just my friends and classmates—they represent the stuff my life has been made of.

Here is a small sampling of my connection to my classmates:

• My father married Scott’s mother and, for a time, we were brothers.
• Scott, Mark S., and Tom R. helped me build my house in 1991.
• I lived with Mike for two or so years while we were bachelors.
• Brent, Tom J., and Les all taught me the value of a constant smile.
• Rob once gave me, of all things, a live owl he had captured.  We also performed a middle school magic show together.
• Tom C. was my immediate next-door neighbor for the first few years of my marriage to Uyen.
• Dave’s house was our party house throughout high school.  Dave also taught me something about perseverance.
• Mark D. and Jim have shown me how to succeed on divergent career/business paths.
• A couple years after high school, Curt picked up me and my friend Vince as we stood on an interstate highway on-ramp in Missoula, Montana seeking a ride back to Helena.  We also share roots in the western fringes of Montana.
• Rocky constantly stirred a bit of mischief so the rest of us didn’t have to.
• In Greg and Marvin, I saw grace in all dealings.

—Mitchell Hegman