Some people I communicate with and meet with have been writing ortalking about sadness ... One was sitting outside her child's therapist's office ... another was struggling through with three children who still needed financial support, each of whom was closer to 50 than 40. Another was clearly sad that I wasn't the kind of person who would ever say to my kids that 'everything was gonna be ok' about my health or their health. My friend was sad that I couldn't do more than communicate my willingness to accompany my kids as long as I had the capacity to contribute. We argued about what I had said to one of my kids the first day of college during the AIDS epidemi. 'Remember,' I said, 'the deal is that you bury me.' Another was mourning a marriage that had never been cultivated or nurtured and was now withering. Still another was bemoaning their own behavior that moved their lover away. Finally,one couldn't do anything because she was too old and sick and because she had problems. For myself, I pray everyday to be able to maintain the belief that if I do a Happy Dance and say Hello and experience Glee, there will be Sadness, as well, as I say goodbye. Many of us who are now Playing in the Last Quarter, grew up in the days when Sabbaths were celebrated. Whether you were in the Outer Hebrides or a religious community in New York or in William Penn's Pennsylvania, a weekly 'restfulness' would be celebrated by many. Stores would be closed and work would cease. Many would avoid mechanized travel .... There was a stillness. My family would welcome the day of rest with happy songs and would end up with my Mother and Grandmother sitting by the window and singing a sad song ... Translated, in part and informally ... 'the holy day of restfulness is going away .... May the week bring good things ... Good accidents and blessing, health and sustenance ... On us and those who celebrate with us ... Amen ... Selah!' .... Tears would flow down their cheeks ... Mom and Grandma ... But not tears of depression ... Of death ... Of pulling away from those who were loved .... The psalmist said: Those who plant with tears, reap with glee. Sadness flows into joy, as we say goodbye and the hello. My youngest grandchild visited yesterday. Three and a half years old. She draws and pees in the toilet and sings 'call me, boobies' instead of 'call me, maybe' ... No longer a baby but a preschooler (odd expression for a child who goes to school ... A preschooler?) She sings the song in both her Father's native English and her Mother's Portugese. A bilingual little sweetheart ... and yet my heart misses the baby that once was, just as I revel in watching her sing with her Grandma. Hello's and Goodbye's ... Sadness and Glee ... 'go together like a horse and carriage ... You can't have one without the other.' Getting on in This Quarter, though, requires making peace with the reality that some of one's friends are gone and others are, indeed, depressed ... Playing dead ... Using the excuse of the unfolding infirmities of life to sit before their flat screens and wither ... To not celebrate their relationships .... That, too, is sad.