“Oh my” my aunt said. Stuart, I believe our girl has photographic memory.” My aunt called me “our girl.” I wanted to dance on rooftops, sing in tall trees, build a monument to them. Uncle said,” It seems you are very much like your aunt. It’s our secret now. This talent will take you far. I watch these dear people, who accepted me at face value walk back to the house and I played with the dogs. I stroked their ears and said, someday I’ll get a degree, a bunch of them. Uncle Stuart opened the door. Chuch tomorrow. Ten o’clock. He paused. “You do go to church, don’t you? and he waited for my answer. Church. Say yes. “Yes.” Aunt and uncle introduced me to elegant people on the way. We sat way down in front. I spied a small gold marker. They owned everyone in Chicago.