Dear Cyndy,

Since we spoke Wednesday afternoon, I have continued to think
about you and your eye problem, asking myself whether my
detailed exposition of the technical, economic and social
issues entailed in the contemporary treatment of macular
degeneration was unduly burdensome to you. Please feel free
to continue to keep me informed about symptoms and therapy,
but please feel free also to withdraw behind the screen of
privacy to which you are entitled.

The past three and a half weeks have been unusually hectic,
and I have found little time and no leisure for my writing.
First the non-stop drive from Belmont to Konnarock. Once
we were there, the preparations for the visit by Klemens and
the grandchildren. The awkwardness of keeping everyone content
and entertained. On Friday, July 16, the improvised burial
of Margrit's ashes with a ceremony so simple it barely 
deserved that name. For the evening, some of Margrit's
friends had organized a pot-luck supper, with some classical
music played by Benjamin, Nathaniel and Leah, but also a
"sing-along" of popular tunes which I found so inappropriate
to the occasion, that Margaret and I decided to stay home,
much to the relief of Klemens who was concerned that my
sadness would spoil the fun for everyone else.

Then I received your letter about the loss of acuity in your
right eye, which gave me much to think about; and notwithstanding
the slow Internet connection, I was able to glean enough data
about the problem to form an opinion, - or to buttress my
prejudices. It was a relief to get the trip back to Belmont
on July 23, with Sandy Greene as co-driver behind me. Three
days later, on July 26, I drove Klemens to the Boston airport
for one of his regular trips to Nashville, and that evening
I met my cousin Marion, whom I had not seen face to face for
fifty years, arriving from two weeks' vacation in France.

The days since then have passed in lengthy conversations,
about our two families, about Margrit who had maintained
moderately close contact with Marion for many years, about
Marion's somewhat lonely existence - she and her husband
divorced amicably many years ago, - they had no children, -
and about my days and Margaret's, now creeping to their end.
The grandchildren came and spent hours telling Marion,
who is a very good listener, about their projects.

Especially Nathaniel, who is assembling an orchestra of
student musicians whom he plans to conduct on August 14,
in a concert consisting of Mozart's 29th, and Beethoven's
7th symphony. I believe there will be two performances.
These will take place at Belmont's newly built Senior
Center, which, to avoid the stigma of seniority, is 
euphemistically called Beech Street Center.  Some of
the players Nathaniel has recruited come from out of town,
as far away as Philadelphia, and four of them will occupy
some of the empty rooms in our large house, for four days,
no less, from August 10 until August 14.

Meanwhile Marion is leaving us tomorrow to take the fast
ferry to Provincetown. She will spend a few days with
a childhood friend named Grace who lives in Truro on Cape
Cod. If Marion and Grace get along, Marion will return
to us on August 8, preliminary to returning to Minneapolis
on August 10. Alternatively, if we turn out to be the
lesser of two evils, Marion might return sooner.

Meanwhile I am determined to resume writing, starting first
with this letter to you; then, tomorrow morning, in appropriate
style, a thank-you letter to Dr. Margret Steinrueck, who is
the mother of one of Margrit's German friends, and presented
me, in memory of Margrit, from the legacy of one of her
husband's brothers who recently died, with a set of 155 CDs
of Bach's complete works. Human relationships are complex
and sometimes very mysterious. I shall try hard to rise to
the challenges they present me.

Please give my best to Ned.

Jochen