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

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.