When one has lived a fairly long life and reflects upon it, it appears to be in the form of a collage or a quilt. The bits and pieces of our lives and over lifetimes experience seem to adhere to a wide screen, for want of a better word. It is difficult to affix the imagery of thought onto a concrete basis but we have no other choice.

Unlike the traditional quilt, the collage pattern cannot be uniform since it is composed of the hours and minutes of our lives; the shape and form it assumes, sometimes congested or confusing depending upon what we have put into our lives.

Is there a preponderance of red? In our day to day world no one is far from the red of anger, the red of rage. We may have cooled some of out anger but the red is there.

After gazing on red for a time, the eye sees green, evoking scenes of grass, trees, quite places. Should there not be more trees planted along and among our highways as a pacifier? It is not just for the sake of beauty but for the calming effect and welcome shade, diffusing the anger.

Oh, the blue sky with its graceful clouds called "Mare's Tails," sweeping across all boundaries, blue and white not for sadness but for the nobility of our existence.

Yellows are the mark of our hesitancy, our lack of faith in ourselves. Our lives fluctuate, with more or less confidence in our well-being.

And at the last, a combination of everything bright and/or muddy, in collages or rigid quilt pattern merges into the rainbow with its promise at the end.