Dear Cyndy,

Klemens, Laura and Leah left for Belmont, planning to travel
via Monticello and the Smithsonian, at 5 a.m. this morning,
and I have been up since, with nothing more than a 45
minute nap bent over the keyboard in midmorning. It was,
for my dialectical spirit, a very satisfactory visit.
Klemens was more tranquil and relaxed than usual. Laura
was unusually friendly and accomodating. Margaret and I
both get the impression that after 26 years of marriage
to Klemens, Laura has finally discovered at least a minimum
of virtues in her parents-in-law. 

For me the high point of the visit was a teaching moment,
a discussion with Leah who had her mind set on preparing
pancakes for breakfast and who was offended by my purchases
of corn syrup rather than maple syrup. While flipping pancakes
Leah launched a verbal attack on me: Yoyo, why do you buy
this terrible corn syrup instead of maple syrup? opening an
opportunity for me to explain that maple syrup was five times
as expensive as corn syrup, and that the difference in taste 
at least to my palate did not warrant the expense. I told Leah
she did not understand the value of money because she had never
been poor, and that wealth was created not only by making lots
of money but also by using wisely and thoughtfully what one has.

What troubled Leah most was that I so obviously enjoyed our debate
and this because of my memories of my youth when my parents and I
often had intense, and sometimes painful discussions -
Auseinandersetzungen is the German word, in th same kitchen, around
the same kitchen table. I'm much aware that it was my parents'
penchant for rigorous exchanges of ideas which was the soil that
nourished my intelligence. My gratitude has never ceased. Leah
was upset. Her making a moral issue of the supposed environmental
diseconomy of corn syrup put her in a ridiculous position which
she was intelligent enough to perceive. Understandably she blamed
me for making fun of her, stormed out of the kitchen (like Charlotte)
and walked down the road. She didn't come to supper. But this morning
as she was getting into the car she gave me an especially fervent hug,
which I reciprocated. I thanked her for coming. I said: "Leah, the
best part was the argument. Let's do it again."

You ask about health, Margaret's and mine. Margaret, now 87 years
and 9 months old, has no known major health problems. She had three
minor strokes several years ago, but except for persistents left
upper field loss attributable to a hemi-central retinal artery occlusion,
she seems to have recovered completely. Her blood pressure is well
controlled. As for myself, now 81 and 5/6 years old,  I've had sciatic pain 
in my right leg for many years, presumably from degenerative joint disease 
of the lumbar and sacral spine. In the past three or four years I've 
developed degenerative joint disease also of the right hip, which makes 
awkward but not impossible tying my right shoe lace, causes me to walk 
with a slight limp, and curtails my roof repair activities, inasmuch as
I can no longer swing my leg to dismount from a ladder onto a roof
or to descend from a roof onto a ladder. Roofing, however, is not
essential to my happiness. Writing is, and since I do not write
with my toes, the hip asks to be excused and ignored. As for the pain,
which I recognize as subjective experience par excellence, I believe it
is best managed by a sort of self-hypnosis which makes one indifferent
to its presence.

When I write that I anticipate death with longing and gratitude,
I ask, am I fooling myself, am I lying, or am I merely lapsing
into bad taste in presuming to express what ought not to be said.

If you'd like to read what I composed this motning, the beginning
of Chapter 53 in English, you may find it at
http://home.earthlink.net/~ej1meyer/freunde/e053.html
Please give my best to Ned, and stay well.
Jochen