“Oh my, ” my aunt said. “Stuart, I believe our girl has photograpic memory.”. My aunt called me “our Girl” I wanted to dance on rooftops, sing in tall trees, build a monument to them. Uncle patted his chest with pride. Well, it seems you are very much like your aunt. She has the same gift. It’s our secret now. No one will know and this special talent will take you far. I watched these dear people, who acccepted me at face value, walk back to the house and I stayed outside to play with dogs. I stroked their ears and said, “Someday I’ll get a degree a bunch of them. Uncle Stuart opened the door. “Church tomorrow. Ten o’clock.” He paused. “You do go to church, don’t you?” and he waited for my answer. Church. Say yes. “Yes.” Heartburn. Thats what I experienced for the first time on what seemed like an endless trip to church. Aunt and Uncle introduced me to elegant people on the way up wide steps. I spied a small gold marker. They own the pew and they know everyone in Chicago.