David Bergman, executive with a barber-supply outfit in Connecticut, father and grandfather and widower at 60, shuffle-steps through an idling present and lost past in some loosely humorous autumnal meditations. Bergman finds his two sons, Irving and Don, dull potatoes--they're locked into TV, NFL, and CPA talk--but he adores lawyer daughter Susan and has a very special relationship with Don's wife, Barbara. Their mutual admiration and affection has even blossomed bedwards. Between clandestine meetings with Barbara and lunch-time frolics with Mrs. Sharpe, manager of the Unisex Products Division, Berger monitors the rocketing career of his company's new vibrator, the ""Gypsy,"" and ambles sadly down Memory Lane. He muses about age (does one acquire rust or a ripe patina?) and mulls over all the things gone forever: parents, wife, Ebbets Field, the picture of Coolidge in the first-grade classroom, Lindbergh, and a song called ""Barbara"" recorded by the Broadway Bellhops. Should he just keep letting it all slip away? Not necessarily--so David and Barbara are off to Paris (just like Lindbergh), leaving a letter for Don pleading understanding. Wisecracks galore--and no end of cutesy sex talk. But David is a real sweet guy, so enjoy. . . in a minor, casual way.