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This is the Tom Harbin program. I wish there were some wonderful place

called the land of beginning again. We're all our mistakes and all our heart aches,

all our poor selfish griefs could be dropped, like a shabby old code at the door,

never put on again. I wish we could come on at all unaware, like the hunter finds a lost trail,

and I wish the one whom our blindness had done, the greatest injustice of all, could be at the gate

like the old friend that waits. We would find the things he intended to do, but forgot and

remembered too late. Little praises unspoken, little promises broken, and all of the thousand and

one little duties neglected that might have perfected, the days of one less fortunate. It wouldn't

be possible not to be kind in the land of beginning again, and the ones we misjudged and the ones we

grudged, their moments of victory here, would find the grasp of our loving hand class, more than

penitent lips could explain. For what had been hardest, we'd know it'd been best, and what it seemed

lost would be gained. For there isn't a sting that would not take wing when we faced it and laughed

it away. And I think the laughter is more than we're after in the land of beginning again.

The land of beginning again by Louise Fletcher at Tarkington.

So I wish there were some place called the land of beginning again where all of our mistakes,

all of our heart aches, all of our poor selfish griefs could be dropped. Do you have anything you

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