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