My aunt died on March 15th. My sister and I took a trip to visit her in February because we knew the time was drawing near and we wanted to see her before she passed. My aunt is the baby in this picture. My mother is the other little girl. Now this wonderful family is all gone.
My aunt was 91 years old. She loved to collect things that meant something to her. It just so happens that she was intrigued by the story of Baby Doe Tabor. Maybe because when she was a girl, she saw Baby Doe walking down a Denver Street.
Now it just so happens that the latest novel I'm writing involves Baby Doe Tabor. And it just so happens that my aunt kept newspaper clippings from 1935 when Baby Doe died. That means my aunt was thirteen years old when she first saved these newspaper stories and she never lost them, not even when she grew up and got married and raised kids and moved to Berkeley, to Kansas City, to Hayward, and to Los Gatos. That is 78 years of safe-keeping through all of life's changes, and now my cousin has sent them to me.
These newspaper clippings will help me with my novel. I'm amazed that I have them. I'm amazed that my aunt kept them. I amazed at the universe and how things happen.
I love you, Aunt Dorothy. Thank you for this gift. I look on it as a sign that I'm supposed to write this book. But even more important than that, it is a connection to you and to a family that was so close and now has passed. Sigh. I'm glad I talked to both of my sisters today.
My aunt was 91 years old. She loved to collect things that meant something to her. It just so happens that she was intrigued by the story of Baby Doe Tabor. Maybe because when she was a girl, she saw Baby Doe walking down a Denver Street.
Now it just so happens that the latest novel I'm writing involves Baby Doe Tabor. And it just so happens that my aunt kept newspaper clippings from 1935 when Baby Doe died. That means my aunt was thirteen years old when she first saved these newspaper stories and she never lost them, not even when she grew up and got married and raised kids and moved to Berkeley, to Kansas City, to Hayward, and to Los Gatos. That is 78 years of safe-keeping through all of life's changes, and now my cousin has sent them to me.
These newspaper clippings will help me with my novel. I'm amazed that I have them. I'm amazed that my aunt kept them. I amazed at the universe and how things happen.
I love you, Aunt Dorothy. Thank you for this gift. I look on it as a sign that I'm supposed to write this book. But even more important than that, it is a connection to you and to a family that was so close and now has passed. Sigh. I'm glad I talked to both of my sisters today.
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