Dear Norman, How are things up There? And do you like the hair? I know I hate it too, Just as I know It bothers you. But that's not why I called, But why I put you on hold. I wanted to ask about Why we haven't taken out, The playful doubts; Or the ones long dead That you put in my head. Can I look in there, Now-- Without crying? Without having to, Aggravate you?