Oh, and Happy Birthday, Chuck!
Well, belated birthday. I’m sure he understands that I’ve had other thing on my mind the past few days.
I have this gorgeous paperback Penguin first edition which must be at least 50 years old. The paper is tinged yellow and it smells like musty pepper, but it’s still in near-perfect condition. I should read it again; I haven’t since high school.
My father isn’t better. He’s conscious, but confused and forgetful, indicating possible brain damage. Just how temporary or permanent this state is still isn’t clear. He keeps making up stories to cover up for memory gaps (confabulation), and yet seems to have convinced himself that his problems are far less serious than the diagnoses suggest. At least some things never change.