I didn’t send this. But, I could have.
And, Icould have easily sent this one last year.

Last year someone gave Dad several books of Sports Illustrated swimsuit editions in tomfoolery. Once a humorist,he no longer understood jokes. The disease had exhausted the human luxury of comedy by December of last year. The friend’s “joke” made his, and our, day horribly miserable as he frisked, hunted, and rummaged ina witch-hunt perquisition for the book. He was convinced his gift was purloined by someone amongst us.

All of this, despite the fact, all of the books were in the bag on his arm.

Dirty ol’ dementia. You make me angry.

Miss you Dad. Merry Christmas.