Dear Bill,

This afternoon, the voice inside my head urged me to write you a letter. The voice did not explain this message at all. He just said, "Write Bill King a letter".

Stupid voice. What am I supposed to say? I'm really tired of this.

Bill, if you're looking for something to do up there in heaven, would you possibly consider becoming the new voice inside my head? My current voice is simply incompetent. I'm seriously considering letting him go.

That's a rough thing to do after almost 40 years together, but it's time I admit that nearly everyone has a better inner voice than me. For example, at dinner today, the family was discussing the wooden folding chair I have in my new office. I was struggling, like I always do, to find any words at all to insert into this conversation, even one which happens to be about my very own chair. I'm like, "Uh...uh...my chair is too hard." And, "Uh...yeah, a new chair would be nice," when my eight-year-old daughter blurts out, as casually as can be, "Any chair is comfy if you have a good book."

Now where did that come from? That's positively proverbial, like a line from a popular greeting card or one of those motivational posters or something. That girl has a wonderful muse. I stared at her in disbelief, trying to think of some way to reply, but I was simply unable to do anything but grunt like a caveman.

I need a new inner voice--one who, like you, Bill, could say just the right thing at just the right time. And this is the just the right time to make that change.

Last Friday was the 10th anniversary of my father's death. Today, it's been one month since my father-in-law passed away. And next week, Bill, it will be three months since you left us. My generation could once defer responsibility to yours, but that torch has now been passed.

My brother turns 50 on Saturday. I'll turn 40 three weeks later. It's our generation's turn to steer the ship. We're the ones who now have to go off to do heroic deeds, like raise a family, build a web site, or when needed, walk out on the ice.

People are relying on us now. As I looked at the calendar today, I felt weighed down by the sheer loneliness of that burden. Nonetheless, I accept the job. But the task sure would be a whole lot easier if I just had someone whispering in my ear the perfect words to say.

So please, Bill, think it over. You're needed as much as ever. A generation turns its lonely ears to you.

With sincere gratitude,

Ken Arneson