Please don't apologize, Son of Mole, for writing something eloquent and loving. I enjoyed reading it, and will enjoy anything else you write about him.

Here's something he wrote on 14 Nov 00:

"A wonderful weekend with four friends and not nearly enough time for all the conversation possible, museums to poke around in, a wife who seems to still be fond of me, two sons who are turning into themselves and not people I would have imagined (but what do I know?),and a resolution that if music is going to happen I better not wait for someone else to call me up and start it. A slaty, grey day with promise of heavy rain: my favorite, really. I think I will go home and make pierogies, start a fire in the woodstove and play the twelve-string.And another birthday goes round the yearclock. Breathe out."