In my native land

All is well. Papa Bear moves much more slowly than ever, and it's difficult to stifle the overwhelming desire to burst into tears, throw myself at his feet and tell him what an amazing human being he is. But he shuts down at talk like that; he's 88 after all, and not especially in the mood for what can only be called a good-bye speech. Mama Bear bustles around with ridiculous energy. I sure hope I'm like that when I'm 83.