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My Brother's Keeper
My Brother's Keeper
My Brother's Keeper
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My Brother's Keeper

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One of those drunken dirty derelicts you saw sleeping under a bridge could have been my brother. Before you turn away and pretend he is invisible take a second if you will to look at him through my eyes.
He was a golden child full of energy, hope, enthusiasm for life, filled with sunshine and laughter. My brother was ten years older than I and from the very first he was my champion and hero. I loved him unconditionally.
He and his entire generation were called upon to set aside their hopes and dreams to fight a war in far off lands with the express purpose of battling injustice and totalitarianism and to preserve the American Dream. It is because of the sacrifices of those selfless men and women we are still living in democracy with all that entails.
When he returned from the war the laughter and the sunshine were gone. Back then they called it Combat Fatigue and today it is referred to as PTSD. It doesnt matter what you call it the results are the same. This is his story.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherAuthorHouse
Release dateJun 27, 2013
ISBN9781481767408
My Brother's Keeper
Author

Lila Strebeck Wright

Growing up in Pennsylvania during the hectic forties and fifties was very different than what the youth of today are experiencing. Life was slower, people were friendlier, more polite, and the world as a whole was a lot more naïve. This is a tale of one family and their adventures and even though Lila is the narrator she figures as only a small part of the whole. After the chaos of raising five children she thought life would be quiet and serene but such has not proven to be the case. Having lived in nine different states she and her husband now operate a business in Garland, Texas, where they reside along with two really big, really dumb Great Danes. (Lila privately suspects they are actually members of the Blue Collar Comedy team dressed in dog suits.) Although she has had several articles published in national magazines and in the Dallas Morning News she had never harbored secret yearnings to write a book. Even now she is amazed to realize she has done just that. Lila has an avid interest in history and is something of a trivia buff so it comes as no surprise to discover this book is packed with historical trivia. Being a real wacko when it comes to Christmas Lila spends a good portion of each year gathering materials and setting up holiday displays. Then she and her long-suffering husband invite the neighbors in to enjoy the festivities. Her pet charity is the Ronald McDonald House in Dallas, where each December she is fortunate enough to be able to help set up the Christmas decorations for the families who stay there.

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    My Brother's Keeper - Lila Strebeck Wright

    MY BROTHER’S

    KEEPER

    Lila Strebeck Wright

    US%26UKLogoB%26Wnew.ai

    AuthorHouse™ LLC

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.authorhouse.com

    Phone: 1-800-839-8640

    © 2013 by Lila Strebeck Wright. All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

    Published by AuthorHouse 07/18/2013

    ISBN: 978-1-4817-6741-5 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4817-6740-8 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2013911099

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Contents

    ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

    PROLOGUE

    ONE

    TWO

    THREE

    FOUR

    FIVE

    SIX

    SEVEN

    EIGHT

    NINE

    TEN

    ELEVEN

    TWELVE

    THIRTEEN

    FOURTEEN

    FIFTEEN

    SIXTEEN

    SEVENTEEN

    EIGHTEEN

    NINETEEN

    TWENTY

    TWENTYONE

    TWENTYTWO

    TWENTYTHREE

    TWENTYFOUR

    TWENTYFIVE

    TWENTYSIX

    TWENTYSEVEN

    TWENTYEIGHT

    TWENTYNINE

    THIRTY

    THIRTYONE

    THIRTYTWO

    THIRTYTHREE

    THIRTYFOUR

    THIRTYFIVE

    THIRTYSIX

    THIRTYSEVEN

    THIRTYEIGHT

    THIRTYNINE

    FORTY

    FORTYONE

    FORTYTWO

    FORTYTHREE

    FORTYFOUR

    FORTYFIVE

    FORTYSIX

    FORTYSEVEN

    FORTYEIGHT

    FORTYNINE

    FIFTY

    FIFTYONE

    IN MEMORIUM

    Joseph Patrick (Pat) O’Connor

    1955-2009

    Son—brother—friend

    Paddy, this book is for you.

    ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

    A lot of people were willing to share their memories with me and I would be remiss if I didn’t thank them for their invaluable insights. Joe DeLancey shared his recollections of Pearl Harbor Day, Altoona in the thirties, forties and fifties; Barb (Murphy) Papinchak graciously filled me in on the first Altoona High School Majorettes; I would have had very little material to work with had the late great Bill Nesline not shared his memories of Lenny in the early years; and last but certainly not least Master Sergeant (Ret) James (Jimmy) O’Connor filled in a lot of gaps for me by sharing his remembrances of Pearl Harbor Day as well as the Pennsylvania Railroad’s Jobs for Joes program putting returning G I’s back to work. A huge thank you to Annie O’Connor, daughter extraordinaire, for taking time from her busy schedule to read through a rough manuscript and offer some healthy criticism and lastly this narrative would still be a work in progress destined to stay that way for all eternity without the encouragement, patience, and understanding of my husband Michael. I am deeply indebted to each of you. If I failed to mention anyone who assisted me with this enterprise please forgive me, the omission was not intentional.

    Then the Lord said to Cain Where is your brother Abel?

    I don’t know, he replied.

    Am I my brother’s keeper?

    Genesis 4:9

    PROLOGUE

    Taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather I opened the windows to air out the house; after being closed up all winter it just felt stuffy. A sweet smelling breeze blew gently past my face as I stood at the kitchen sink humming along with some nonsense tune softly playing on the radio while scrubbing the ubiquitous potatoes for dinner. I don’t know what made me turn around, perhaps a slight sound or a subtle shift in the atmosphere, regardless I knew I was no longer alone. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted my brother Lenny standing quietly in the doorway, straight and tall with a big smile on his face. He didn’t say anything just stood there grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary, looking as pleased as punch with himself. He knew he’d surprised me right down to my toes. His beautiful blue eyes were bright and clear, he had a glow about him that radiated happiness and good health and it seemed to me he hadn’t a care in the world; looking better than he had in a long long time. In fact I couldn’t even remember when he’d looked so good. Potatoes forgotten I raced over and threw myself at him. He wrapped his arms around me hugging me close to his heart and I felt warm and secure and safer than I had felt since I was a very little girl. And why not, he was my big brother and I’d loved him fiercely from the very beginning.

    I had to tip my head back to look up into his face because he was so much taller than I. Reaching my hand up and caressing his cheek I said "I can’t remember the last time I saw you smile. Oh Lenny, I’ve missed you so. It’s been such a long time," I sobbed.

    I know it has and that’s why I came to see you. You don’t have to worry about me anymore; I’m in an incredible place now and I’m finally at peace. You can relax; everything is ok and I’m doing just fine.

    Then I woke up. It was only a dream; an amazingly vivid and comforting dream.

    But it was just a dream.

    Or was it?

    ONE

    It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness . . .

    A Tale of Two Cities

    ~Charles Dickens

    Early twenties:

    Should you wake up one morning only to discover you had somehow been magically transported through time to the world of America in the twenties you would find it a truly different place from the world as we know it today. The fundamental cadence of life was different; people were not rushing hither and yon, it was okay to occasionally stop and smell the roses. Life was simpler and exceedingly less complicated. You would immediately be struck by the profound absence of noise; no blaring radios or televisions, no ringing telephones or computers, no buzzing overhead power lines, no squealing tires or buses belching noxious fumes, and no refrigerators or air conditioners humming noisily in the background. The technological melody of modern life did not as yet exist. The ultra-clean, clear air would definitely make an impression and you might possibly notice the atmosphere had a fresh untainted aroma.

    However the differences would be about a great deal more than the senses; the twenties were the brashest, most intense, brightest decade ever. It was a bold world full of promise and discovery; anything was possible; optimism abounded. This was one of, if not the most significant decades in U.S. history largely due to the vast changes which occurred in American society. Reacting to both the disillusionment from the First World War and against the strictures of Victorian culture, Americans abandoned old ideas with a vengeance and adopted new concepts on a wholesale scale. This was a reactionary decade as the young rejected most of the staid ideals of their parents.

    On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in the year of our Lord 1918 a defeated Germany signed the armistice known as the Treaty of Versailles ending four years of the bloodiest war in human history known among other things as the Great War. By the time the peace was made twenty million European soldiers and civilians had perished and more than a hundred thousand Americans lost their lives. The world was transformed by such apocalyptic violence and unparalleled trauma producing a heretofore anti-authority awareness, manifested primarily by the determined rejection of traditional ways. It caused a cultural earthquake in the West. The wealthiest and most culturally and technologically advanced nations on Earth had used their resources to decimate an entire generation of their finest young men and women. Woodrow Wilson naively called it the war to end all wars. To add insult to injury the armistice wasn’t well thought out, sowing seeds of dissention which would ultimately lay the groundwork for yet another disastrous war. The reparations the losers faced were so severe it would give rise to Nazism and Communism; the twin totalitarianisms which were to plague the Twentieth Century. The horrific loses Europe suffered as a result of the war helped to catapult the United States into a position of world power. World War I marked our coming of age as a nation.

    In America more than a million young men and women who had never been away from the farm returned home with fresh, innovative, and exciting ideas. They had seen something of the world and never again would they be satisfied with the status quo. They didn’t want to stay on the farm as their parents had done doing the same old chores in the same old ways. They wanted better jobs with higher remuneration which involved considerably less back-breaking labor; they wanted indoor plumbing, electricity, automobiles, and better schools for their children. This wasn’t going to happen on the farm so they migrated to the city in record numbers. For the first time in America the population in the cities surpassed population in rural areas. Amid the psychological and cultural detritus of World War I, many questioned the old ways of doing things and the old beliefs. These young people had big ideas and the world had just better make way for this new generation because they were about to make their mark.

    And make it they did! The twenties would come to be known as the Roaring Twenties or the Jazz Age. It was most likely dubbed the Roaring Twenties because it literally exploded with new innovations and ideas. If an age can be exciting this one was it! This was a period of unparalleled prosperity as well as progressive social and technological reform. It was the first truly modern decade, an age anxious to enjoy itself, anxious to forget the past and anticipating a glorious future. The very air sizzled with new ideas and innovations and life was sweet.

    Women were now enfranchised and with the right to vote they discovered a freedom they had never before had. Their clothing was chosen more for comfort than fashion; skirts were raised, arms were bared, hair was bobbed, and as they began to explore this brave new world growing numbers found employment outside the home. Ladies were discovering there was more to life than the traditional roles of wife and mother. Being a flapper was a statement about who you were; it was more than a look it was a life style represented by hip flasks, hootch, speakeasies, relaxed mores, short skirts and bobbed hair. These ladies embodied the modern spirit of the Jazz Age.

    Just as prior to the World War once again the nation became isolationist, unwilling to get involved with the problems facing the rest of the world; Americans wanted to be left alone and to be at peace. The prevailing philosophy was let Europe handle their own problems we’ve done enough.

    The National Prohibition Act was an epic social failure of historic proportions. Primarily due to its unenforceability crime skyrocketed and alcohol consumption reached an all time high. Speak-easies, establishments which sold illegal alcoholic beverages, thrived. In order to gain admission to a speakeasy one had to speak in a soft voice through a small opening in the door and thus the name, Speak-easy. Thirsty Americans defied the law by drinking coco-whiskey aged three weeks in a coconut shell, or bathtub gin which was one-third alcohol and two-thirds tap water, with a trace of glycerin added for smoothness. The disastrous effects of Prohibition and the criminals it fostered are well documented. Prohibition made criminals out of ordinary law-abiding citizens and in the final analysis probably did much more harm than good.

    Airplane travel was considered exotic and only the most adventurous travelers were willing to give it a try. The government began regular airmail service in 1920 and those early pilots were some daring guys who faced huge obstacles and unbelievable dangers on a daily basis. It wasn’t until Charles A. Lindbergh made his solo non-stop cross-Atlantic flight in 1929 when the romance of flight really caught the imagination of the public and the possibilities of air travel became a reality. Thirty four hours after take-off when Lindy landed at Le Bourget Field in Paris, France a crowd of 100,000 fans were waiting to greet him. His boyishly infectious grin and his wind tossed hair instantly charmed the world. That day Lindy flew right on into history becoming a larger-than-life legend. He was the hero of the hour and suddenly every kid in America wanted to fly when they grew up. Prior to this railroads dominated the travel industry but Lindy’s flight marked the beginning of the end for the Age of Rail. It would take several decades and another world war but airplanes were slowly but surely taking over the commercial travel industry.

    Electricity and indoor plumbing became standard in U. S. homes. Telephones were becoming more common and greater numbers of people were driving automobiles as Henry Ford’s assembly line made them affordable for the average person. Jazz was the music of the day while the Charleston was the dance of the day. Silent movies were a booming industry taking motion picture actors and actresses and turning them into household names; names like Clara Bow the It Girl, handsome swashbuckling Douglas Fairbanks, romantic Rudolf Valentino, funnyman Charlie Chaplin, and America’s Sweetheart Mary Pickford.

    National radio broadcasting began in the USA in 1919. In the beginning broadcast detectors (crystal sets) were used to receive broadcast stations. The detector made headphone reception possible. Later vacuum tube receivers which offered loudspeakers for volume control would replace them. By the end of the twenties radio had become a staple of people’s lives and almost every home in America had one providing news and entertainment. The invisible sinews of electromagnetic waves were binding the country together as never before.

    Everyone prospered in the twenties. The economic strength of the day could be likened to the decades of the fifties or the nineties. All the signs pointed upwards and starry-eyed consumers fooled themselves into believing this upward spiral would continue forever. In America consumption patterns changed as businesses expanded their sales through advertising and installment payments. Through advertising they successfully seduced the public into mortgaging their future to attain their current desires. Everybody was buying everything! The consumer culture was born and it drove the U. S. economic engine as long as people could handle their debt. Of course that is how credit works; it’s great as long as you can keep up the payments.

    A group of writers who had become disaffected with American materialism, pretensions, and the loss of moral values which had come about after the war became known as The Lost Generation. The most well know of this group are Ernest Hemmingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and John Dos Passos. These literary giants felt a sense of alienation from American society and willingly became expatriates in Paris choosing to live a bohemian lifestyle. While in Paris they produced works of fiction which give us insight into life in the twenties and at the same time introduced a new, more naturalistic style of writing as opposed to the more flowery prose of the Victorians. But not all writers of the twenties wrote bleak and depressing stories; in 1926 A. A. Milne introduced Winnie the Pooh who lived in the Hundred Acre Woods and hunted Heffalumps, bringing eternal delight of children of all ages. In its own special way Pooh is just as brilliantly crafted as any Hemmingway or Fitzgerald tale and a whole lot more enjoyable to read!

    As the decade of the twenties opened Warren G. Harding was President of the United States. History has taught us Harding was one of the worst presidents this nation has ever had; his presidency was wracked with scandals and his egregious personal sexual behavior was an embarrassment to those who knew of it.

    His own mother was quoted as saying It’s a good thing Warren was born a man because if he were a woman he’d forever be in the family way.

    One of the quirkier things about Harding during his term of office was his choice of pets; his personal menagerie being the envy of many a zoo. He had 6 dogs, a bobcat, a goose, a donkey, a cat, 2 lion cubs, an antelope, and a wallaby. However, the main attraction in his own private zoo was Billy, the pygmy hippopotamus who weighed upwards of six hundred pounds and measured six feet long. Billy was a gift from tire mogul Harvey Firestone. Firestone probably didn’t want to feed the beast and had a good laugh at Harding’s expense. Eventually President Harding donated Billy to the Smithsonian National Zoo and none too soon for the people who worked in the Presidential mansion.

    Harding died in office in 1923 and Vice President Calvin Coolidge became the 30th President of the United States. The contrast between the two was like day and night; Harding was your regular garden variety hound dawg whereas Coolidge was an honest old-fashioned gentleman with bone deep integrity. He represented an even then fading set of Victorian values such as thrift, industry, and self reliance. Coolidge restored dignity and honor to the White House and many years later he would become President Ronald Regan’s personal idol, the man he most wished to emulate. Due to his reticence Coolidge would be dubbed Silent Cal.

    Cal’s style of governing was more or less hands off leaving the industrialists and the financial gurus to run the country without any interference from the White House. One might even say he practiced a form of laissez-faire government. If his style seems lackadaisical to you consider the country wasn’t in any worse shape under his administration than under many others.

    Coolidge was excessively parsimonious to the extent of turning out unused lights all over the White House. This story is told of his frugality; members of his Cabinet tried to persuade Cal to increase spending on military aviation, but his response was, Can’t we just buy one airplane and have the pilots take turns?

    Had you been transported back to the twenties this is the world you would have found and this was how things were at the time of Lenny’s birth in the spring of 1924.

    TWO

    "By far the most common craving of

    pregnant women is not to be pregnant!"

    ~Phyllis Diller

    Altoona, Pennsylvania: 1924

    Ida and Len grew up in Baltimore, Maryland where they met and following a whirlwind courtship subsequently married. Shortly thereafter they moved to Altoona, Pennsylvania where Len immediately went to work for the Pennsylvania Railroad in their shops as a Master Mechanic. Construction on these historic shops began in 1849 and by 1945 they were the world’s largest repair and construction facilities for railroads. The shops manufactured as well as repaired locomotives and Len’s job entailed the building of parts for steam locomotives and then later for diesel engines. He derived an enormous amount of pleasure from his work and apart from the usual grumbling one does about fellow employees he was extremely satisfied with his work environment. Anyone who dwelled in their household knew one didn’t criticize the Pennsy in front of Len. For his entire working career the devotion he had for his employer bordered on the religious.

    This was a man who was supremely content with his lot in life and would remain so throughout his days; he loved his wife and children, he enjoyed his job and felt at ease with his fellow workers; he found the town where he resided to be a pleasant place to raise a family and he yearned for nothing more. He believed in God, his family, America, and the Pennsylvania Railroad and not necessarily in that order. Even during difficult times he persisted in thinking of himself as a fortunate man, a man endowed by the Creator with a multitude of blessings. This was a happy man, a man satisfied with his lot in life, in short a man to be envied. He would remain at the same job with the railroad until his retirement forty-two years later.

    The Appalachian Mountains are the some of the oldest mountains on the planet known for their ecological diversity and breathtaking beauty. Unlike the fierceness of the rugged Rockies or the lofty snowy peaks of the Himalayas they are mostly low and gentle and to a westerner hardly worthy of being called mountains. And while the Rockies may appear more splendid the Appalachians are almost entirely cloaked in deep, thick, dense forest providing home and refuge to myriad wild life.

    Altoona in 1924 was a flourishing small town nestled in the beautiful Appalachian Mountains of central Pennsylvania. The social and economic life of the community revolved around the Pennsylvania Railroad. Worldwide railroads were still the primary means of transportation for goods and people and the Pennsylvania was the largest railroad in the world. A man who worked for the Pennsy had a reliable job and could reasonably expect to be able to provide for his family in a satisfactory manner.

    Train whistles were part and parcel of the background symphony of Altoona. Hearing that long echoing whistle late at night would often invoke thoughts of the people riding those trains; trying to envision where they were going and what was their story; was their journey a happy or a sad one? But sometimes a train whistle late at night can be a poignant sound, dredging up recollections of times past and loved ones lost, even though I’m well aware in modern times most trains transport freight not passengers. It is a sound I love, reminding me of home, of my lost youth, of a more gentle time and place, of family.

    Being young and in love the newlyweds wanted to begin a family immediately. Len loved children and he was looking forward to spoiling a family of at least six. Although children in the cities weren’t needed to work on the farm large families were still the norm. Ida fretted when she didn’t get pregnant in a timely fashion so she decided to help things along. Succumbing to advertising of the day she began surreptitiously dosing herself with a tablespoonful of Lydia Pinkham’s nightly.

    Lydia Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound was a well-known patent medicine which had been on the market for decades. Today the Food and Drug Administration regulates over-the-counter medications but prior to federal oversight patent medicines were readily available and generally speaking were quack remedies containing secret ingredients and promising miraculous cures. These compounds were often dangerous and occasionally even fatal to the user. If the naive consumer by chance gained relief from these products it was likely due to a placebo effect.

    Without regulation almost anything could and probably was sold to gullible folk like Ida including opium, radium, mercury, and tapeworms to mention just a few of the worst examples. In the eighteen hundreds the Chinese coolies who were brought in to build the transcontinental railroad became noted for peddling snake oil as a magical cure for joint aches; hence the term snake oil salesman. Alcohol featured heavily in many if not most of these remedies peddled by flim-flam artists of the day.

    Like the famous American showman P. T. Barnum was fond of saying There’s a sucker born every minute.

    Lydia Pinkham’s was founded in 1875 and was the first widely successful business run by a woman in America. Twenty percent of the elixir was alcohol, which was purported to act as a solvent and a preservative and it assuredly solved many a problem and preserved quite a few, too. Doubtless alcohol in such quantities had a lot to do with the popularity of the product. It reached the peak of its success during Prohibition.

    Lydia Pinkham’s was designed to be used as a cure-all for female complaints, any and all female complaints, and its slogan was A Baby in Every Bottle! Lydia Pinkham liked to introduce herself as Woman’s Friend. The company ran clever advertising campaigns aimed exclusively at women promising in essence miracles but Ida was very young and very naïve and she still believed in miracles! Hey—why not?

    Lydia Pinkham’s Elixir was a thick nasty vile tasting potion but Ida ached to have a baby of her own so she persevered for several months until Len discovered her little secret. He was furious and insisted she cease drinking the foul stuff immediately but it was already too late; she was pregnant! Finally at last a baby was on its way.

    Ever after whenever she wanted to kick-start a conversation all she had to do was to merely hint Lenny came out of a bottle of Lydia Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. Yes sir-re-bob, any comment of such ilk was guaranteed to initiate a lengthy and meaningful dialog.

    The nausea and vomiting most often referred to as morning sickness was never a problem for her but the father-to-be was so in tune with his wife he suffered from phantom pregnancy and had sympathy morning sickness during her entire gestation period. This is so common scientists have given it a name, Couvade Syndrome. Ida’s feelings as to his morning sickness were conflicted; she loved him for his sympathy but was heartily amused since she felt so great and Len—didn’t.

    No baby was ever more eagerly anticipated. This lucky child would be welcomed into a family where children were treasured and cherished. He would be the first grandchild in Ida’s family and on Len’s side this birth would be the first child of the oldest son. To his mother that was very meaningful.

    In celebration of the upcoming event Len’s mother, Lizzie, went out and bought an American Flyer toy electric train set for the much anticipated grandchild the Christmas before he was born. The cars of the train were a shiny dark olive green and painted on the side in great big gold lettering was written PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD. What else? There were only enough tracks to circle the base of the Christmas tree but to the expectant parents it was magnificent. This was an O gauge set and as the years passed we seemed to have had the only O gauge train in the neighborhood it having been surpassed by the more popular standard gauge. For those of you who are not aficionados of model railroading let me elaborate; the train was big. Big was okay with us; we rather enjoyed the uniqueness of our larger train set. I say our even though I always knew it was never mine but Lenny’s set of trains. Most of the time he graciously allowed me to pretend it was a family train set. Throughout our entire childhood we knew once the train was set up under the Christmas tree it was time to hang the stockings and proceed with the holiday festivities.

    While Ida and Len were awaiting the blessed event they were living with Lizzie. Among her many eccentricities was her insistence on being called Maam. She was known to everyone; friends, relatives, friends of relatives, relatives of friends, as Maam. Maam was generous, warm-hearted, loving individual who also just happened to be stubborn as a mule. She could have given Storm Troopers a run for their money when it came to high-handedness. Though diminutive of stature she was never-the-less a powerhouse of a woman; full of energy, enthusiasm, and a wonderfully contagious zest for life. Maam had this extraordinarily infectious laugh and she laughed a lot; it was just plain fun to spend time with her.

    Being a take-charge sort of gal Maam quickly stepped up and set up a regimen for her

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