It’s a group therapy weekend , the unexpected question; “What do you see written on your gravestone?” Tough question, going around the circle counter-clockwise, I’m about fifth in line. Time to think, no, time to peer in the gathering dusk at the stone and read; “He Tried.”

Oh, I got a ration of shit. “He tried? Is that all?” The shrink impromptued –“I can try to get out of this chair, or I can get out of this chair.” He demonstrates a heaving and hoeing of trying and failing and then triumphantly stands up. The difference between trying and doing – I get the point and am uncomfortable in this place, with these people earnestly competing for the emotional honesty points handed out by the shrink. I am ashamed and turn inward – unwelcomed, I don’t even have a decent dream to offer for analysis.

Ken ye now the life of the widow MacKenzie? The triumphs, the tragedies?

“In accomplishing anything definite a man renounces everything else.”  Santayana 

“No, Ernest, don’t talk about action….It is the last resource of those who know not how to dream”   Oscar Wilde