Forrest and I each scribble a card this morning while we hustle about to get the Father's Day meal together. I think FFP bought one somewhere and I just write something on a blank card. I already bought my dad some shirts in Denver and he is wearing one of them when he shows up. I give FFP's dad a book on tape. He loves those. In fact, I've already listened to this one (on the way to Denver) but he likes it anyway, perhaps likes it better that I've already listened to it. We have a simple meal: King Ranch chicken casserole from Cooper's and some squash I fixed with my mother-in-law's fruit salad for dessert.

Our dads are getting old. But, today anyway, they are doing all right. They get up and down, eat their lunch. Dad drove over. FFP's dad wears these binocular things to watch the movie we put on, Mildred Pierce. Our dads have gotten old enough to see their kids grow old. Forrest and I are graying and spreading and not as young as we used to be. Still, we are doing OK. We seem young to them, driving them or doing physical things that they can't do.

My sister is not doing so well. She has an infection. It was so bad that they took out her VP shunt but that didn't seem to be the cause. She's in CCU. Last night and this morning I had calls from my brother-in-law and my niece. Dad and I are worried. It makes me feel very mortal to see my sister (who is not yet 60) failing in this way. She has a broken leg from a fall. They cut the cast off to see if there was an infection under it. There wasn't. I'm concerned and my dad is concerned. There is nothing we can do about it. But it's just there. I've retired and, if anything, gotten healthier. It's silly to think about, but when my sister was 55 and a few days, the aneurysm in her brain exploded. On one hand, I think nothing like that will ever happen to me. On the other hand, I wonder.