Yes, there was a birthday party thrown for me by my former friends and staff. It was deeply embarrassing, but touching for a boy eternal. Many gifts, including a couple of large ones to the Center (thank you!!). Nice and silly and untrue things were said of me (and read from those who couldn’t be here), and for hours it seemed photos from my salad days were shown. The Ashbrooks seemed to enjoy the recollecting when my blood flowed and once my appetite was more to bread than stone. Wife and mother and half my brats were here, and I am only grateful that no one asked my mother to speak the truth for she would have, no doubt, told them all what a grieveous burden my birth was to her, and how wayward my infancy. I did come into this breathing world, more or less made up, on the 23rd of December, but the party was yesterday. Thank you all, and let’s end it. Oh, and one more thing: There is nothing wrong with either Jackie Gleason or Aristotle. Glad to be alive.