We have something to tell you and I knew the serious- ness because they never had anything to tell that they didn't just tell. That grandmother of yours who we said died before you were born is living at Rockland State Mental Hospital. I want to mention how things explain themselves eventually, like Mother's fishy smiles when we talked about grandparents or Father always handing coins to gone women on the streets. Next was the visit. We took her for a drive. Dad was never David, but Burt or Harry and Mom never Kate though she repeated I am Kate to Selma who was always Selma in the front seat of the Ford Fairlane between Father at the wheel and Mother's surrounding arm. Grandmother was so friendly with her perky mistaken names and locations. I sat as Phil or Seymour in the back seat on the Lower East Side of Manhattan in Long Island and Warsaw. It was 1937— before I was born.