A Sad, Sad Day

It’s a sad, sad day when family turns on a feeble old man, calling attention to his faulty memory and failure to attribute a source. I know Robert Frost wrote a road less travelled. He should have used taken–more poetic–so I did it for him.
 
Out of mercy, I will not name that cruel son-in-law, nor refer to his irregularities. He ran marathons, over hill and Dale! He once biked from Arizona to Minnesota–in the summer! No person possessed of sound reason would do that.
 
You would think, having attained 75–or thereabout–he would pity his elders. But I’m a reasonable man. I will not cut him out of my will. I will, however, reduce his share by half: four harmonicas down to two, both D Flat.