Realigning the books on the shelf where dad's father's ring and the letter openers rest, I found a gem, words penned by my father, a diary of sorts, from his trip with Doug to Russia. I took it, immediately, to his longtime translator (the writing was his usual scrawl), my mother, and she worked out some of it. Pretty basic stuff ... departure times from New York and Helsinki to arrival time in Moscow. There's probably more but I placed it back where I found it (I will remember its location), it is a rare artifact of my dad's writing outside of his professional duties of myriad patient note taking.
A rarity -- Dad's words describing Russia trip with Doug.
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