Phone Calls Are a Very Poor Substitute

I had the distinct pleasure of speaking with my childhood best (and arguably, just flat out best) friend on the phone tonight. Politically, it is likely that he is as opposite to my 1960s ‘liberalism’ as can be. Yet we seem to get along wonderfully. Perhaps because we really do not speak of such things.

And that is almost certainly for the best and a necessity that we not speak of such things, as I love him dearly.

I must make it back to that high ground between the Marais des Cygnes River, 110 Mile Creek, and Dragoon River valleys sooner than later.