I was 15 years old.
My grandmother had sent me this notecard. I knew it was coming, because she had told me about it. “Someday,” she told me, “you will be very proud to have this.”
I didn’t have to wait; I was proud of it from the moment she told me about it. I was very close to my grandmother. For years, I often went to visit her and spend time with her in her office after my school day was done. She told me stories. She gave me things to read. She showed me things in her world, which was the Historical Room in the Stockbridge Library. I loved every bit of it.
So now, 55 years later, I am still proud of my heritage.
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