Something cool happened today. For the first time in quite a long time, I am excited about left-handed physical therapy. I used to type as fast as people talk, in order to interview them on the phone. Now back home, that's really saying something. We talk fast back home in the Northland. I am renewing my commitment to get this left hand to hit all of the left keys on the keyboard by itself, without "helping" so much with my right.

At The Spectrum retreat one summer (we worked hard), we played a trivia game. One of the questions was something like, "On which side of the keyboard is D?" The sales team all looked at each other, while there was a collective thud on the long tabletop, as every single member of the editorial staff dropped our hands to recall just where it was that D is on the keyboard.

Wish I had video.

Seriously, is the Hollywood Foreign Press having a tough time filling the tables? Everybody you can possibly imagine, who hasn't had anything going on in the spotlight for YEARS, is at the Golden Globes tonight. The camera-that-adds-ten-pounds has to add square footage to that room.

"The death of an old woman is not a tragedy."

So sayeth an angel, played by Virginia Madsen, in A Prairie Home Companion, as she came to escort someone to heaven.

By the time we're old, hopefully we've touched lives, run in the sand, been given a round of applause, heard music in the sunrise. But a young woman died the other day, and listening to her family and her circle of friends describe her at the memorial, this girl, this child, was remarkable...

It was 1989 in North Dakota. That was a hard year for us. Then Barbie got sick. Praise God she came through so well.

"You will never get over your best friend dying," said the mother of one of the girls. "This will follow you forever."

And then, the autumn of 1989 and the summer of 2000 shared the same space.

At Nicole's funeral, the pastor asked me to come to the front of the church, from this tight, inconsolably sobbing group of junior high girls, to read a poem I'd written for her.

Growing up is a terrific thing
Friends with whom life's song you sing
You make new ones and sometimes lose old
But no matter what, they're better than gold.
Sometimes friends have to be apart
But each is forever in the other's heart....
A new sunrise dawning,
Bringing dreams without end
I shall always call you my friend.