Thinking of Jason this morning, I recalled this lyrical coda to a novel by Daniel Fuchs: "...the people enmeshed in their concerns, those pursuits, dreams and diversions which occupy us so that we are each of us precious to ourselves and wouldn't exchange ourselves, the being in us, with any other, those wonderful moments which as they happen go by almost unnoticed but which return again and again in our thoughts to bemuse and warm us, the stir of smoking mountain panoramas, the ache of sweet summer days, of trees in leaf, of being in love, this prize, this treasure, this phantom life." Tom Schmidt