Just as when I heard of the tragic death of Ernest Hemingway in July, 1961, and also Jack Kennedy in November of 1963, I recall the words of Irish poet John Donne: "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the mainland; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as manor of thyy friends, or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind- and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee"
Cancer- that word has to be more sinister of any six-lettered word in our lexicon--and no one ever said that life was fair and really knew what they were talking about, did they?
