The unvoiced thoughts and ideas of a septegenarian.



I know someone who says he’s never had any close female friends.  That, I think,   is generational  phenomena.  For men in their 60s or 70s women were (and for some still are) primarily sex objects.  They would not have gathered together with  a few women to socialize. They’d have been more likely to whisk one of those women away and try to lure her into their beds.  I don’t think the same attitude exists today.

I envy my children in this regard. While I am a wallflower and have few friends they have many and gender is of no consequence. Does a friend have to be someone who lives nearby with whom you meet regularly? Does he have to be someone who shares  your views? I now correspond with three people I consider friends. Are they friends despite many miles between us?

One is a retired professor, also an artist, who is steeped in ancient Roman and Greek history.  He is manna for my brain.  Every letter includes sentences that read:  See here and here.  So I click here and here and I learn from him.

            The second is a retired newspaper feature writer who writes poetry and short stories.    We have clicked on many levels and if he lived next door he’d probably be in my house – my bed – frequently.  We continually laugh and tease each other.  He’s like a bolt of lightening on a dreary day.  I recently told him a story out of my past which he referred to as a ‘slice of life.’  We share and are interested in each other’s slices of life. He brightens my day.

The third is one whose sometimes divergent thoughts and ideas are triggers.  He opens the door to introspection and reflection.  He gives credence to my words.  He’s the guy with whom I’d choose to sit by an open fire, sipping a glass of wine and talking to deep into the night.  He is the one with whom I dig and probe into a variety of thoughtful gardens.

There are hundreds of definitions of what friendship is. This one appeals to me more than most.

When you are sad – I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.

When  you smile – I will know you are thinking of something I would probably want to share.

When  you are worried – I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining.

When you fall – I will laugh at your clumsy ass, but I’ll help you up.

This is my oath –  I pledge it to the end because you are my friend.


Challenge.  Write a paragraph or two about a friend and what he means to you.

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Julie Rose


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            I’ve neither read nor conducted any studies on the subject of e-mail but my guess is that most of us have had some experience communicating with others via cyberspace.  Sometimes such communication is only a letter or two and it fizzles out;  other times it becomes an on-going ‘getting to know you’ exercise. If  you’re very lucky your correspondent will be someone willing to discuss more than the weather – to share his life experiences, his hopes, dreams, regrets. I have been fortunate to have found three such people and our almost daily exchange of letters enriches my life.

This verse might as well be called Ode to Cyberspace.


Somewhere over the treetops

Words soar high

And the stories you dare to tell

Brighten my days as well.


Somewhere over the treetops

Truth be told

Tears shed, laughter is heard

Flying through skies of blue.


Somewhere over the treetops

Hands reach out, hugs thrown,

Feelings and dreams shared

Despite many miles between.


Somewhere over the treetops

We sit together question each other

Your hand in  mine

I laugh at your joke

Blow you a kiss and smile.


Somewhere over the treetops

A new friend is found

A mystery voice, a hazy image

Retreat behind words

That teach, touch, challenge


Somewhere over the treetops

Thanks be to the winds that bear

The thoughts of another

Far distant yet oh so near.

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Julie Rose



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