Lapses

The days tend to fly by, and we follow the routines that seem to stabilize the best. Correspondence is dwindling, but there's not much to be done about that; the correspondents themselves are continuing to vanish. Occasionally a flash from long ago will appear, as with the copious geneological material a cousin of my dad's recently sent us. There were letters from my dad to her, around the time I was going to "present" them with a grandchild, as he put it. We read them, but they didn't seem to have much effect. Not sure it's such a good idea to delve sometimes.
Rounded up another Oates' novel, Wonderland. Inching along her ouevre, which is amazingly large.