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I moved your photo to another place where I could look more often on that face jocular beneath the jaunty cap - a candid, unpremeditated snap clicked on the golf course. I feel your confrontation with full force - white shirt, black polka-dotted tie - good background for what has to be your laugh. (No silent smile forced for a photograph could look like that!) This captured laugh was meant for looking at time and again. And looking, I can hear your gutsy, deep, deriding guffaws break boldly behind the even-toothed facade's unstudied pose. The large, aggressive, true comedian's nose makes you still funnier, more assured. Your white hair hides beneath your cap. Eyes sparkle with the percolating wisecrack soon to come. Who could see all this and still be glum? Not many have your power to pierce the clouds. Your sunshine devastates me, night or day. How young you look, under the cap's so rakish tilt! What shirt so stuffed it would not quickly wilt? Oh, how the years dissolve, disintegrate before this moment, camera-caught - this timeless instant that is you inviolate!

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