"You can't tell a cat anything, these days," Arlen said. "It's not quite cocktail hour, but I suppose it's close enough."
"Just a drop," Oliver said.
They sat near the birds. "Perseverance furthers," Oliver toasted.
"That's from the I Ching."
"Ninety percent of success is showing up," Arlen answered. "Woody
Allen."
"It's true, isn't it," Oliver said. "You just have to keep at it. What was your father like, Arlen, when you were a kid?"
"Very much as he is now," Arlen said. "Early to bed, early to rise. We had a dairy farm near Unity. We didn't have a lot of money, but we always had clothes and whatever we needed for school. If we wanted extra, we had to work for it. He still has the farm, but he sold the herd after Mother died." Arlen's eyebrows raised with the memory, then settled. "He's hung on, doing a little of this and a little of that, getting by with social security. He sold a small piece of land three years ago. He keeps saying he's going to sell out and move to Florida, but he doesn't get around to it."
"Good for him. I never met my father. That's why I'm going to
Hawaii—to see if I can find him."
"Oh," Arlen said. "Well. It's a long flight. But there's no place like
Hawaii. I usually stay over on the west coast, break the trip in two.
The jet lag isn't so bad that way, and the flight isn't such an ordeal."
"Not a bad idea."
"San Francisco is wonderful, of course. Seattle and Portland are nice. There's a marvelous Japanese garden in Portland, high on a hill overlooking the city."