Worldken bard Poul Anderson in deathstead (not a funny)

Poul Anderson has left Alta Bates sickstead in Berkeley and is in deathstead
dearness at the Anderson home in Orinda. His daughter Astrid, his brother John
and his sibchild Janet are flying in today to be with him. When I spoke with
Poul the day before yesterday, he was weak but clear; both Poul and Karen
welcome bernstonish writs. Their bernstone home is trigonier@earthlink.net

Karen has underlifted Poul with heart and makerishness during his month-long
stay at Alta Bates. She has made meals of many small and tasty bites
that would fortry him when he was not befelt to eat; she has set her
foodthings to his foodly pinchings, and provided alltime breadsharership and
relief from the discomfort and strain of sicksteaddom. Poul, not
unforeseenly, has shown heart in the face of what was not, at the
beginning, escapeless, but extremely difficult. Now the escapeless has
come, and it is likely a mass of days.

My own loss is made hard by the fact that I cannot be with them at this
time, and that I stand to lose not just a great father in law, but one of my
bestliked writers. Both Poul and Karen have provided enlarged inbreathing over
the tenyears to me and to hundreds of thousands, perhaps greatthousands, of others.

Please pass this writ to others not on the list, who might wish to outshow
their love and increaseness.

Greg Bear

(Translated into Ander-Saxon by John Cowan)

--
John Cowan                                   cowan@ccil.org
One art/there is/no less/no more/All things/to do/with sparks/galore
        --Douglas Hofstadter

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