It's become clear to me, during days filled with spiritual introspection and simple solitude, that there are several people deserving of heartfelt and sincere apologies from me. I have been remiss in waiting this long, and I hope that what I'm about to say will in some small way absolve me.

M. Frazier - In the first grade, you offered to go to the bathroom with me to unzip the extremely stubborn zipper in the back of the little green jumpsuit my mother insisted on making me wear to school. When your little first grade hands had not the strength to free me from that zipper's wrath in time, I peed on your sneakers. I apologize. You have remained my best friend to this day and I love you.

C. Janzen - In or about 1997, you and I responded to a traumatic EMS call in which the patient was bloody, but did not require an ambulance. When he asked for a pen to sign the release form, I looked at you, lied and said, "I don't have a pen, can he use yours?" just so the guy wouldn't goobie up my own pen with his bloody hands. I apologize (even though you fell for the same trick some months later).

A. George - For every gooey substance I put on your combination lock, the condoms in your locker, the white fur rug I put in the street outside your home claiming it was your dog, Puff, and basically every other obnoxious act between 1980 and 1983, I apologize.

My family - Christmas, 1972, 6 A.M, an 8 year old Cranky Chick grows impatient when her requests for everyone to get out of bed to start the gift opening fall on deaf and uncaring ears. As a last resort, she yells, "Fire!!" at the bottom of the stairs, causing her siblings and parents much trauma. I apologize.