Aging, aging. A picture of Biden today and the news that if he wins in 2024 and survives he will be 86 when he leaves office. In 1988, after his aneurysm surgeries, I went up to him at (where else) the Amtrak depot to say it was good seeing him look so strong. Beau was with him looking immortal. I am nearer 88 now than 87. I have finished the book I started the day George Floyd killed. I started it then because only then did I see a way to make something coherent from ten thousand (and more) documents on my American family. I pulled out the ones obviously about race. I finished it despite (starting earlier in 2020), prostate work, near blindness misdiagnosed as lymphoma but really Valley Fever. Blood clot, hallucinatory vertigo, many falls (some severe), fainting on the beach that ended with a heart procedure last Fall. I still don't know if I can make use of the thousands of documents in my "Ornery People" file which are not so obviously about race. It's 9 and I will be at the beach soon, but only going a mile and a quarter, not 2. Now, I could not have an office job any more. I have beautiful long London Majesty neckties in Ancient Madder but I don't wear them. I wish the Democratic Party had a dozen men or women as good as Beto. Failing that, I wish Biden strength. I will never see him looking as I did in the depot in 1988.