| Oc rOBE~ 25, ~966 WAS AN OBDINABY FALL DAY. IT WAS CLF_,AB AND Abit warmer than seasonable for the South Shore of Long Island.I was putting the finishing touches on a new school jumper for myslx-year-old daughter, Ginny, and I really had no inkling whateverthat this particular day would become etched deeply in mymemory. In fact, the only unusual feature of the moment was that thehouse was quiet. Seven of my eight children were in school. Theyoungest, seven-week-old Boberta, was sound asleep. The childrenwere due home shortly and I was savoring the last few minutes ofsilence, thinking about the family--considering each one-wonder-ing what the future held. Dan and I had been married twelve years. We were both in ourearly thirties and the first seven of our eight children were bornabout a year apart. The three oldest were boys, the others all girls. |
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