In a friend's words, in a friend's touch, a deeper wisdom thatwhat I have become is not a generality, not someone's stereotype. What Ihave become is m.... Still me. What I have been, what I will be.In the warm waters of the words she washes over me, a way forwardemerges. Beyond the comfort of knowing I can find a way, she hints thatall the things I need to know are knowable. That I can in fact know themall. With a murmured word or two and there with that gesture she shows mehow to make, we weave. He passed things by George once in a while, but for the most part, he ran the shop area.The web page, with Jack's pictures, made a big difference. We also advertised on a couple of radio stations (who I hit up for the free ads for the hospital) and they were bringing in a lot of business.The biggest beef I had about George's operation was that the shop itself wasn't visitor friendly. I'd had the phone ring a good fifteen or twenty times before being answered on several occasions and had to help. More

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