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A Poem inspired by Bernard's letter. Does not address the horrors of those who need or want jobs and can't get them, but friends. Being unnecessary except to you and me, is actually relaxing. The people I find that still care about me are the ones with whom I'd rather be. I drove with an acquaintance to a dinner party recently, quite a nice gal actually, and she was unable to think in a week and dead in a month of something like Mad Cow Disease. And I am still here, writing a poem to you with my shaking hands. There is hope!! Liz