Driving back from lunch, you’re in a great mood.  Windows are down, belly is full, and The Rose comes on the radio.  Naturally, you crank it up because the harmonies are easy and it’s a great song to belt.  But by the time you reach your office, you’re in a sobbing heap, and as you roll down the window, all you can tell the security guard at the gate is: “It’s true.. in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows lies a seed, that with the sun’s love, in the spring becomes a rose.”