A thought evoked by a poem from friend Anthony Gomez of South Carolina:
Rejoicing at the ends. When the body is slipped off like a workman’s well-worn uniform; when the final punch-card is hit; when the task-mates throw at you a “see-ya” wave, and the old acquaintances of sainted influence emerge from the clouds with smiles, songs and eternal embrace. Their Jesus on every pair of lips. And THE MAN shows up.