• My very first memory is of my sister, my dad and I sitting on Audrey's bed at our Big Old White House. Her head board was white, with scrolly designs and flaking gold paint. We were saying our nightly prayers. Or, rather, Dad was. We just had our hands folded and eyes shut. For some reason, I interrupted him and he told me to be quiet. That's how I learned not to talk during prayer. I think I was two. Isn't it funny how you can remember memories from years ago, and they are crystal clear, as if they happened yesterday, but what happened yesterday may be clouded, as if it happened years ago.

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