EARLY IN July 1982, my parents announced that they were leaving for a month in Hawaii the following day, a decision they had made on the spur of the moment. At a hastily arranged dinner in Seattle just before their departure, Dad told us in a sharp, angry voice about the difficulties they were having finding low-salt foods for my mother in restaurants and grocery stores, and how frustrating it was. Salt was everywhere in the American diet, he said, and much of the blame had to do with the ignorance of the medical profession. Doctors knew too little about diet, and not enough meaningful research was being conducted about the benefits and dangers of particular foods and diets. While Dad was taking care of Mom, Penny was trying to keep Bruce—now thirty-one years old—out of trouble. An incurable disease had recently been discovered that was killing homosexual men—AIDS. From her home in Stockton, California, Penny telephoned Bruce in San Rafael near San Francisco. The most thoughtful and generous person in our family, Penny was always sending us notes and little gifts.
