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After we moved from Pasadena to Wheaton, Illinois, in 1994, for many years my wife, Wendy, made regular trips to visit her family in Northern California, usually in the summer. Sometimes I was able to go too, other times not as in the summer of 2011, when Wendy flew back alone for a visit. On such occasions I often kept scratch-paper handy to jot down odds and ends that I thought she might enjoy when she returned.
The other day, I came across several pages from that summer, almost ten years ago now. Here is the first entry:
Two old men at Starbucks (though probably not much older than we are), one tall and thin, the other mid-sized and stocky with a very red face. The tall one says, “And I TOLD her, ‘just stay in bed,’ but she wouldn’t.” Evidently his wife had been sick, got back up & around too soon. Then he said that when he was a boy, he never understood why his mother worried so much, was always saying to be careful. “Now I understand.” The red-faced m