My essay on religion and reincarnation is shaping up beautifully. I think this project will fill a whole volume, by the time I get through all my controversial beliefs. I'm getting excited about it--rediscovering information I found in the 1960s. After a session on the word processor, I go to bed with such a good feeling.

I've recently exchanged several e-mails with my youngest sister, Norma. The depth of her abstract thought, her intelligence and ability to express her beliefs and describe her questions about the meaning of life are amazing. I believe she's still working through the grief of losing her husband to cancer a year ago. It was very sudden; he died about a month after it was first diagnosed. It seems that it is times like these when our minds are the sharpest, our thoughts the most lucid. I'm looking forward to sharing and comparing thoughts with her during my next project, the essays for my kids/grandkids. Her amazingly high IQ is manifesting itself.

I wish the malice and hatred my older sisters harbor against me could evolve into Norma's kind of reasoning and deep thought about human relationships. It won't happen--they were not allowed abstract thought as children. Only that life is real, life is earnest, and we're lucky to survive, not to wonder why. But why would they want to invent evil stories about me that are untrue, and then keep repeating them until they forget the truth and believe the evil. It seems they have a need to fan the flames of antipathy by fabricating things that refute the apparent reasons (invented by him eons ago) for my being my father's favorite child. They still resent it, even though I did nothing to be cast in that position. It's so sad; they're in their seventies. Why allow him to win, twenty-five years after he became nothing but mouldering bones? It all seems to stem from the way I presented our story in my first two books. Soon the new book will be out, and they'll be angry again at the way I used the information they uncovered during their years of geneological research. I've given them full recognition for their work, but I'm sure that won't be enough.

I'm introspective today--Frances sent her usual Christmas letter. Apparently I'm supposed to behave as if everything is normal.

We had another wonderful Thanksgiving in Montana with the kids/grandkids, all except Tammy and her family (she has FOUR grandchildren now) and Marty's three older children. (This year it was sixteen people.) It's such a joy to see the genuine affection these people have for each other. Even the cousins, who only see each other once a year or so, get along so well. The grandkids in attendance ranged in age from Chuck's oldest boy Reid, age sixteen, to Barry's youngest daughter, age two. The weather was much too warm for successful hunting, but the men bagged one deer and a squadron of ducks, and had the usual bonding. The Thanksgiving turkey was placed in jeopardy by Barry's little girl, who loves to play with electronic buttons. She shut the oven off, and I didn't discover it for about two hours. The turkey was still cold just after noon. It was a good thing the men were bent on hunting, and didn't need dinner until about seven o'clock. She's so adorable, no-one was upset with her, and we had lots of other food.

On Friday night we had our fishfry/crab feed. Jim and I brought a cooler full of Dungeness crab we had caught over the summer, and Chuck brought halibut, ling cod, sea bass and salmon from his and Reid's fishing trip to Alaska. After the meal, the kids, women and grandparents (Jim and I) went to bed and the four brothers sat around the table drinking beer, bonding and reminiscing till the wee hours. Everyone left on Saturday, (some of us with coolers full of left-overs.) Some of the kids expressed concern that the bad economy might keep us from gathering next year. On the bright side, it appears that gas will be cheap for those traveling by car. We'll keep our hopes up.

I've been notified by my publisher not to expect a proof copy of "Chasing Ghosts" until December 30. I hope they get it done sooner. It's in their hands now.