Medical Insurance for Seniors
Medical insurance can be complicated enough – for seniors, it seems the picture is often more confusing. Most seniors don’t work and many are in ill health or have special medical needs. And many seniors rely on government funded assistant living facilities – an estimated 1 million seniors live in around 30,000 assisted living facilities throughout the country. Most se

The Benefits of Shrink Wrap Machines
Industrial shrink wrap protects and groups products during shipment. The shrink wrap film is plastic and, when heated, it shrinks and conforms to the products’ shapes to protect them from dirt, moisture, and damage in transport. Different types of shrink wrap film as well as different types of shrink wrap machines are available for the different needs of companies that use shrink wrap.I've really only had two friends in my life. Now, before you deem this too pathetic for words, let me define terms.

A friend, a real friend, is one who engages, no matter what. A genuine friend, a pal, a buddy, will not let too much time pass without contacting you to check in. A true friend keeps you in mind and even if you live on the other side of the country or globe, does what it takes to keep in touch.

A phone call, an e-mail, a text message, or God forbid, an old fashioned handwritten letter, are what a real friend uses to keep engaged. Even if it's nothing more than a, "I can't talk long but I wanted to tell you I've been thinking of you lately."

Real friends do this.

My real friends have been my beloved wife, Cindi, and my friend, Mark. They've bothered to engage me for decades.

I met Mark when we were 14 years old and stayed friends all these years. I am now fifty-one. We met in our first year of high school and remained bosom buddies and lifelong pals.

We did everything together and were soon known in our high school and college as "Lucy and Ethel," or "Laverne and Shirley." We were closer than just friends. Mark became my brother.

I moved in with Mark and his family while I was still in high school. My parents moved to the east coast but I wanted to stay in Kansas City to finish my last year of high school. We roomed together through college and up to the very day I married my wife—my other best friend. Mark was the best man in my wedding.

Even after marrying Cindi, Mark remained OUR best friend. We engaged constantly and without fail. Even when Mark moved to El Paso to become an Assistant U.S. Attorney, we still engaged. Cindi and I from Kansas and Mark in Texas stayed engaged, no matter what.

We called, we emailed, and we took vacations to see one another. We made no demands on one another. We just engaged.

Today I only have one real friend left.

Mark left us. He had to go.

On Easter Sunday evening, 2004, at 7:45 p.m., Mark died of kidney cancer.

I loved my friend Mark and miss him almost more than I can express. It's taken this long, until 2006, to be able to write anything about this unbearable loss without breaking down. I can barely, even still, fathom a world without Mark in it.

But, he's gone. We cannot engage.

I do know many people. I have an incredible number of acquaintances. But of all those acquaintances, none offered so much as an e-mail, a phone call, or a letter when Mark died. Even today, they never engage.

I had only one real friend who offered comfort when Mark passed away—my beloved wife.

I wonde

iend uses to keep engaged. Even if it's nothing more than a, "I can't talk long but I wanted to tell you I've been thinking of you lately."

Real friends do this.

My real friends have been my beloved wife, Cindi, and my friend, Mark. They've bothered to engage me for decades.

I met Mark when we were 14 years old and stayed friends all these years. I am now fifty-one. We met in our first year of high school and remained bosom buddies and lifelong pals.

We did everything together and were soon known in our high school and college as "Lucy and Ethel," or "Laverne and Shirley." We were closer than just friends. Mark became my brother.

I moved in with Mark and his family while I was still in high school. My parents moved to the east coast but I wanted to stay in Kansas City to finish my last year of high school. We roomed together through college and up to the very day I married my wife—my other best friend. Mark was the best man in my wedding.

Even after marrying Cindi, Mark remained OUR best friend. We engaged constantly and without fail. Even when Mark moved to El Paso to become an Assistant U.S. Attorney, we still engaged. Cindi and I from Kansas and Mark in Texas stayed engaged, no matter what.

We called, we emailed, and we took vacations to see one another. We made no demands on one another. We just engaged.

Today I only have one real friend left.

Mark left us. He had to go.

On Easter Sunday evening, 2004, at 7:45 p.m., Mark died of kidney cancer.

I loved my friend Mark and miss him almost more than I can express. It's taken this long, until 2006, to be able to write anything about this unbearable loss without breaking down. I can barely, even still, fathom a world without Mark in it.

But, he's gone. We cannot engage.

I do know many people. I have an incredible number of acquaintances. But of all those acquaintances, none offered so much as an e-mail, a phone call, or a letter when Mark died. Even today, they never engage.

I had only one real friend who offered comfort when Mark passed away—my beloved wife.

I wonde

gh school and college as "Lucy and Ethel," or "Laverne and Shirley." We were closer than just friends. Mark became my brother.

I moved in with Mark and his family while I was still in high school. My parents moved to the east coast but I wanted to stay in Kansas City to finish my last year of high school. We roomed together through college and up to the very day I married my wife—my other best friend. Mark was the best man in my wedding.

Even after marrying Cindi, Mark remained OUR best friend. We engaged constantly and without fail. Even when Mark moved to El Paso to become an Assistant U.S. Attorney, we still engaged. Cindi and I from Kansas and Mark in Texas stayed engaged, no matter what.

We called, we emailed, and we took vacations to see one another. We made no demands on one another. We just engaged.

Today I only have one real friend left.

Mark left us. He had to go.

On Easter Sunday evening, 2004, at 7:45 p.m., Mark died of kidney cancer.

I loved my friend Mark and miss him almost more than I can express. It's taken this long, until 2006, to be able to write anything about this unbearable loss without breaking down. I can barely, even still, fathom a world without Mark in it.

But, he's gone. We cannot engage.

I do know many people. I have an incredible number of acquaintances. But of all those acquaintances, none offered so much as an e-mail, a phone call, or a letter when Mark died. Even today, they never engage.

I had only one real friend who offered comfort when Mark passed away—my beloved wife.

I wonde

nd without fail. Even when Mark moved to El Paso to become an Assistant U.S. Attorney, we still engaged. Cindi and I from Kansas and Mark in Texas stayed engaged, no matter what.

We called, we emailed, and we took vacations to see one another. We made no demands on one another. We just engaged.

Today I only have one real friend left.

Mark left us. He had to go.

On Easter Sunday evening, 2004, at 7:45 p.m., Mark died of kidney cancer.

I loved my friend Mark and miss him almost more than I can express. It's taken this long, until 2006, to be able to write anything about this unbearable loss without breaking down. I can barely, even still, fathom a world without Mark in it.

But, he's gone. We cannot engage.

I do know many people. I have an incredible number of acquaintances. But of all those acquaintances, none offered so much as an e-mail, a phone call, or a letter when Mark died. Even today, they never engage.

I had only one real friend who offered comfort when Mark passed away—my beloved wife.

I wonde

It's taken this long, until 2006, to be able to write anything about this unbearable loss without breaking down. I can barely, even still, fathom a world without Mark in it.

But, he's gone. We cannot engage.

I do know many people. I have an incredible number of acquaintances. But of all those acquaintances, none offered so much as an e-mail, a phone call, or a letter when Mark died. Even today, they never engage.

I had only one real friend who offered comfort when Mark passed away—my beloved wife.

I wonder how much Americans have become nothing more than a nation of acquaintances instead of engaging friends?

Do Americans even bother anymore to engage? Or has real, genuine, and true friendship become nothing more than a series of "one-night stands," as sex became in the so-called sexual revolution of the sixties?

In the meantime, my real friend and I, my Cynthia, continue to engage while we wait to engage Mark again.

And we will.