Gil Anselmo was one in a billion. once you were his friend, it was for life. I will always treasure the memories with Gil and my parents, and my many visits to his pacific ave condo in San Francisco. I remember the garge entrance that was so narrow, the cars had to spin around, and never once did Gil abandon me, even when I was so lost I couldn't find myself. Most will never know what it was like to have a friend like Gil, and they world would be a better place if they did. A lifelong friend, John Rosenwald
jrosenwald1
19th August 2012
Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918
Trees
I THINK that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Katherine
16th August 2012