Missing the trees for the forest

The species appears to be on such a doomsday journey, with media magnifying every baby step of the way, that it's easy to forget that a zero-sum universe demands the positive as well as the negative. There are, in fact, giants among us.

And even though I've outlived all my closest male friends, I still have contact with extraordinary people. Mark Marchus is one of the unheralded wonders of the world, a filmmaker, writer, philosopher, inventor, entrepreneur, and an old fart even older than I. He likes to call us a dying breed and he probably is right but at the same time, he's not hiding under a rock but on his blog and in conversations sharing what a long life of thinking has shown him. He's one of the few people I know that I can't keep up with.

Terry Simons spent a long time as a relatively invisible poet and playwright, and general cynic in the Northwest Portland bar scene, before technology gave him an opportunity to go public with Round Bend Press, which continues to expand its authors' list and also continues to get well-deserved recognition.

Lynne Fuqua in L.A. is someone I've known since she was a kid, the daughter of a good friend of mine in L.A. She later wrote songs for some of my plays and remains as close a friend as I have today, and certainly the longest.

Harriet holds down the fort

These three, and others, enrich my life. And most of all, Harriet, the constant companion of my daily life, and Sketch not far behind, define my day. So even as the world crumbles, my life remains rich, and I consider myself blessed.