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  • One thing I've learned in life: we write our own stories, our own lives into being. We chose it. We can change it. Some of us want to share all the details because somehow it makes us seem more, I don't know ~ real. Some of us pare it down to poignancy with such elegant craft.

    I have gained the reminder that life deals many some pretty ferocious blows. We are all born with such potential until something either nourishes it or beats hell out of it. ...and yet....and yet...the human spirit digs way down deep to brush off the courage and gets up to keep on keepin' on. This is what I have gained from you, and Tony, and Sean, and Ben, and Katie, and Hop, and so many others...the courage of the human spirit, the faith that we matter. You matter Ray.

    In the end, we are all human, all storytellers and storywriters. Mine are no more or less important than anyone else's. When competition enters into the storytelling equation, we've devalued that strength of human connection and courage to bare our vulnerabilities. I know that just a simple twist of fate has provided me with my story and not yours, not Tony's, not Katie's, not Ben's. But there are shards of your truth and their truths in mine.

    So, I raise a glass to you as you meander down the dark deserted road you chose. Your footsteps echo and will continue to reverberate here on Cowbird Street. You've made a difference. Continue to make that difference wherever your footsteps take you. Keep chronicling and telling your story. The truth it brings matters. There is always room for a Ray: of hope, of courage, of life, of love, of light. Perhaps you'll find your way back sometime.
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