Dear Cyndy,

This morning I'm in a state of perplexity. A lady, Edith Boehme,
a teacher at the Nibelungenrealschule in Braunschweig who was involved
with the Stolpersteine project about which you know, has e-mailed me
that next week she and her husband are visiting their two daughters,
both in their late twenties who are studying dancing in New York City.
They are planning a motor trip through New England and would like to
stop in Belmont to hand to me a book about the Stolpersteine project
with reference to our family. The four of them would also, subsequent
to a perhaps ill advised invitation, like to spend the night of
October 14, at our house.

Our first response was to accommodate them by returning to Belmont
a week early. I'm fascinated by the pathos and drama of the situation,
and from the depths I can hear my father's voice: Das hat mit uns
nichts zu tun. (That has nothing to do with us.) And yet, it obviously
does, and I thought if only to demonstrate our appreciation for all the
historical effort, albeit unsolicited and perhaps ill advised, of which
my family was the focus and to demonstrate our share of civility and
politeness, we shouldn't hide. This morning, however, Margaret seems
weak and ill, complains of shortness of breath. Today at least, she's
not able to do the necessary packing. She's also not able to tell me
what needs to be packed, for the obvious reason that until she opens
the bureau drawer or the closet door, she doesn't remember exactly
what's inside and can't instruct me what should be left and what should
be taken back to Belmont. We had originally planned to return to
Belmont on October 18; then to accommodate our hypothetical, potential
visitors we thought we should return on October 11. Right now, it's up
in the air.

Meanwhile, in about 10 minutes, my lumberjack neighbor who scavenges
our woods, is scheduled to arrive to fell another very tall dead
locust tree that is looming over the house. He wants and needs my help.
I hope neither he nor I get hurt, and I'll keep you informed.