It’s all very amateur (I’ve never had a voice lesson), but we’re friends. And I think you remember Debbie : she surely does you. Her sweet, true voice has squeezed forth happy tears chez moi since she was four.

I won’t precisely defend that bit, and if after mature mulling you find it still jangles, your esteemed opinion will suffice to drop me back to an early-2002 version: “…No, if you’re far away, you’ve chosen not to be near. Or better, d.v.

I intended in the “my dear” language, perhaps wrongly, just the spoor of a celestial attitude of amused affection, perhaps in the face of a Lucy-esque defense: “I didn’t leave the Church: the Church left me!” Somewhat akin, perhaps to the D&C 1 bit (Stanza 11) about how I-told-you-the-truth-and-I- don’t-need-to-hand-you-any-excuses. I’ve always been grateful that we seem in our absurdity, now and then, to tickle the Lord somewhat, even if a mite wryly.

I completely like the “note of amusement” concept; I just think people might stumble on the “my dear.” But I hope you can keep the amusement in that phrase somehow.

More later.

(Of course I remember Debbie!) Moi