She’s at Binghamton.

She wants to do public health and she is, God help her, exactly like her grandmother in temperament — completely certain, extremely blunt, physically incapable of leaving a spice shelf alone.

Sam is eighteen and plays bass in a band that is not good and knows it.

He is gentle in a way that his father was gentle at twenty-five, which I noticed when he was fourteen and which frightened me for about a year until I understood that the resemblance is real and stops well short of the part that matters.

I still live in the duplex on Alder.