it always was. but Mother liked to hold onto those
vestigial organs of high social standing.
"Jake is going to see about trading it in on a van
that we'll have specially equipped for you."
"I don't want us to sell that car. It's
Grandmother Hudson's car. It's -"
"Rain, dear," she said smiling. as painful as it is
for all of us continually to face it, the fact is my
mother is dead and
buried. There's no point in holding
onto the car. I thought you were set on a more
reasonable road these days. Why do you want to hold
onto a car that you will have to be carried into every
time you want to go somewhere, not to mention carried out of. How will that make you feel to see people watching you delivered like an infant from
place to place?
"Well?" she pursued.
"You're right," I said reluctantly. She was, of
course, especially when I envisioned myself being
held like a baby or guided into my chair at street
corners and curbs and parking lots.
"Good." She walked to the closet and opened it
for me. "Third, as you can see, all of your clothing has
been brought down for you. Everything you need is
here, shoes, undergarments, everything."
She turned and looked around, nodding with
pleasure. "Is there anything else you'd like in your
room?"
"I don't have a telephone. I noticed," I said. "Oh. That's right. I didn't think of that. I'll look
into it ASAP. I wasn't sure if you would be too tired
to discuss business with me, so I left the papers at the