Ruth, my daughter, visited me early this morning. An unusual event, that, and she didn’t come to invite me to a July 4th family outing. Instead she had sort of a “getting rid of Papa” transaction on her mind.

I was in the middle of breakfast; cholesterol free scrambled eggs (ich!), toast, jam, and coffee. The meal, as always was accompanied by Jim and Peter's nonstop argument about politics. Both are Republican. Both like Bush the Second. Both think we should have invaded Iraq. Both think we should invade Iran. Both think the nation’s economy is just fine (“Inflation’s down. What’s to complain about?”)Both think that God gave man permission to rape this Earth. So, what's to argue about?

During one of their incessant arguments about GW’s tax cut Ruth came from behind, tapped me on the shoulder and kissed me on the top of my head causing me to nearly jump out of the pink skin that stretches like crinkly parchment over the top of my skull. I’m totally bald now, with the exception of the gray fuzz that grows out of my ears. My bald pate is in perfect fashion congruity with those 20 and 30 something hunk kids I see with their shaved heads. There's a contingent of them that play ball on the field behind the Pine Needle back lawn, directly across from my bedroom window. Most of them are pumped and buff with thick bull necks. They have become the physical embodiment of the phallus and I envy them.

But, I digress. Ruth pulled an empty chair from the next table and inserted it between Jim and myself. Said, "Hello gentlemen," and, as though Jim and Pete were almost invisible, she launched into the reason for her visit. She wanted permission to open my attic "Sanctuary" at Orchard Hill, our farm (now her farm) near Paradise, Pennsylvania. Seems some professor wants a look at it, sort it, archive it, and take it away. My blood pressure mounted, and I’m sure my bald pate turned a dull magenta red. I said. "Absolutely not. When I left Sanctuary, I locked the door and padlocked it for a reason. That's the most important part of me. My heart and my intellect did a dance there for almost fifty years. I discovered the silver man there. It was the portal to Varnastrama. It is the place where I learned the actual nature of my being, physical and spiritual. It is mine. You and Don wanted the farm," I said angrily. "Well, you have it. But, leave my Sanctuary alone."

Ruth was hurt. I could tell by the way her nose crinkled and I could see the wet at the corners of her eyes. But, I meant it. Sanctuary is mine!