October 31, 2018:

In the picture I find most eloquent I'm standing apart.

My mother and her father are together, she's glowing, these are probably the happiest moments of her life. She's beautiful in her olive colored dress, her smile is radiant. I'm in a little cowboy hat and I'm several feet away, looking on. I'm part of the frame but I'm an onlooker not a participant. There's a gulf between me and them which is both physical and emotional.

It remained that way for the rest of her life.

She even changed her name for them. They called her "Jeanie", so she called herself Jeanie. It was on her answering machine when she died: "Hi this is Jeanie, please leave a message." As if they were the only people she cared to hear from.

Whereas I dropped out, early. In conflict over spiritual and moral values; in protest over being seen but not heard.

This photograph says all these things. On the very first day we all met. Practically the very first moment.