She's eleven. I'm almost seventy. If all the lessons are loss, we're both stuck with memories of wives, girlfriends, roommates and red headed singers. It's been quite a year. We've said goodbye to hope, romance and our Angel. Somehow, though, I look forward to the rest of it and in my anthropomorphic arrogance I'm pretty sure that she does, too. These melodies fill my head and this love fills my heart. Hot dog, buddy, buddy!