Dwight has written a poem and I am surprised and very pleased. I ask to see it. He agrees and I lay it out. It is at first a very long piece of paper. That changes to a series or units or verses of 3-D objects. The first verse says something about home, hearth, etc. My mother is reading it with me and she is upset. Oh, now he's going to write bad things about me. I say reassuringly, "No, now don't take all this personally. Everyone has a mom, it's universal." I know I'm lying, but can't figure out how she got insulted by the words "home and hearth," which we slightly argue about the pronunciation of hearth. The next verse has little blow up plastic fruits like apples and bananas. The next verse has a real banana and apple and two wooden, old-fashioned cooking utensils. I keep moving the verses around as more keep coming. I am astounded at how much there is! He's finally opened up and let it out and wow, there is a a lot. It is sort of negative and full of pain. Then, the forgiveness verse finally comes, roses. I am very happy. Later, the word "Fritzvalue".