Affliction and the anti-avarice

In Boston, a pretty girl with a distinctive laugh sits chained in a law school library.

In Ft. Meyers, a man sits hobbled by illness. Medication and plane tickets rest on opposite sides of a delicate balance.

In Greenville, a man’s forehead burns at 103 degrees. The steam coming off his head spells out the words…”Get me to the mountain.”

Again, friends, it is time for LEAF. From Ohio, from Indiana, from Massachusetts, from Florida, from Georgia, and from South Carolina, the denizens of Tent City will begin their trek toward the mountain.

It is this time the we seek to discard our daily dogging for dollars and look only to across a foggy lake at the unseen musical notes that spill out of a big white tent.

We could lose some of our crew to illness or to other duties.

Suffice it to say, we will be thinking of you and will dance a jig for you at some point in the next four days.

Until that time, RER and its sick fascination with the Beltway Sniper will be on vacation.