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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