When I was going through treatment last year, my friend Bob would leave a lavish message for me once a week: "This message is for my dear and beautiful friend Susan to tell her that I love her."
Call me easy, but these words in Bob's mellifluous voice would melt my heart every time.
Is it any wonder I make mad dashes to SF? Now that Bob is fading, I never miss an opportunity to tell him, "You're beautiful, and I love you." The words always bring a smile to his face.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggp54DKD0N4FLHUy80OiLqgHSHTf9Dn_vrajOCie6Kmgn5OMtuyKY4IxwiavKORBc0uiwL2dGK0y4xDOJ_wHwqcPohiHTnpG8H6Itx_fZdIekpZG6eQ1uNDs7gXzyfCMxuKmzb9jee2li8/s400/CIMG2845.JPG)
The titles on Bob's bookshelf reveal his beautiful mind.
I love the title "Black Intellectuals, Black Cognition and the Black Aesthetic."
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