My two little boys on Mumford Street are gone.

Who among us has driven down Mumford Street lately? The poverty is unsettling. The look on the faces of its inhabitants is lost hopelessness mixed with fear and 20 other kinds of misery. This place will crush your soul.

The word in the limelight is respect. You know, the word on every educator's lips (at least in Schenectady).

Here it is Monday again and yes, it's still raining.

Maybe it's no wonder people stop and stare, because all of us together look like a magic entity - sparkles in the air and glory rays streaming down and the music of small children laughing and playing while their moms sit and watch a dream, all on one special afternoon.

The only way out of this hole is to look up and climb out. TOGETHER!!!

My heroes are all those people who have come out of the woodwork to support Quest and all that it stands for. Give them a hand. And while you're at it, give us a hand.

In Norse folk lore, on the first day of summer, the night, as legend would have it, smiles three times, once for the children, once for fools and once for love. How beautiful an image that is.

I drive by the old Family Health Center every day. There it sits - has it been 2 years or 3, possibly longer, since everyone moved out and left it desolate and alone and maybe even haunted by old dreams and distant memories? It is wasted space, but more than that, wasted opportunities.

Here's whats bothering me: Justice, or the lack there of.