6/9 On a recent visit to my mother's, Henry casts about the kitchen, unsure what to do with himself. Over the years, his declining physical and mental health have robbed him of most of his former passions. In his youth and early adulthood, he was an avid fisherman, spending hours on the banks of our pond, hauling in one catch after another, then tossing them back. He was similarly infatuated with basketball, taking endless shots (with excellent aim) at a hoop in the driveway. We also regularly played cards, Scrabble and Bingo, and he loved basic math workbooks. His favorite pasttimes, however, were mowing the lawn and chopping and carrying wood for my parents. Of all those, the only activity he's really been able to hang onto is the mowing, but in winter, with snow blanketing everything, there is little for him to do. On this day, though he was eager to visit, he began agitating to go back to his house as soon as lunch was over.
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