I took my Mother to church today. Beautiful, red poinsettias were massed around the pulpit. The church sold them, with the proceeds going to benefit the church's youth programs. There was a special insert in the program with the names of those in whose honor, or memory, the flowers were placed. My Mother was not aware that I had purchased two, one in memory of my sister, who died of cancer in 1986, and one in memory of my Father, who died in February of this year. After the service, as is the custom, those who had purchased flowers took them home. They look very nice in my Mother's living room. Tomorrow, we are going to take them to the nursing home where, two years ago, my Father recuperated from his first broken hip. (He was there for three months, and then came home.) I'm sure that there will be some residents there who will have nowhere to go for the holidays.