But now the news was grim. Cousin Dick had lung cancer, and brain tumors, and was having seizures. "It's a hell of a way to live," he wrote in NoRemember, "but after 66 years of comfortable health, it seems to be my turn."

Then, the day before Christmas, as I completed Chapter 16, I had news from his daughter: Cousin Dick was dead.

One of the last conversations he had had with her was about the third volume in this series, With a Tangled Skein, and its Author's Note, which covered my own tangled skein of life. Damn you, Satan!

Let's conclude on a lighter note: the tangled skein of lesser events and impressions occurring while I worked on this novel. Satan uses honey as much as vinegar to distract me. My life is filled to the brim with minutiae. Such as requests for visits and talks. I attended a teenage girl's birthday party: she had been in an automobile crash that affected her memory, so that she could not retain new experiences. She liked my fantasy, so they hoped that if I was there, it would give her something special to remember. If she returned to the hospital, and remembered, they would know she was mending. So I went, bringing her some of my books and a Xanth Calendar, and they had video cameras of the party, so as to refresh her memory. She did improve, and I hope I helped. I also addressed a college class about story writing, reading an excerpt from my story "Soft Like a Woman," which is a savage antisexism commentary, because I support education and oppose sexism. Yes, I do get mail calling me sexist; some readers take my parodies for endorsements. I addressed a local Kiwanis Club meeting; the contractor we are asking to build us a nice house on our tree farm asked me, and I want him in a positive mood as he tackles that house. There's a reason for everything, but everything takes time!