My daughter is playing in the garden. She reminds me of me at her age: refusing to do anything "ladylike", such as keeping her dress clean. I've never asked her to learn to sew, but God forbid! Sometimes she even reminds me of myself at a much older age.

I think of Peter and Thomas every day. I loved both of them. And neither—at least not in the manner that I thought I did. They represented to me then, and still represent to me now, our fight to control our own destinies. Thomas Melville, with his eloquent words and lofty ideals, was our inspiration; Peter Edes was our reality. Each day, he laid out the chairs for the Long Room members and he laid out the typeset to publish their words. He would have fought without restraint during the war.

After our freedom was won, he started his own newspaper, the first in a small town that had none. He used the opportunity given to all of us: that to make a new future for ourselves, one of entirely our own choosing.

As for me, perhaps I should have chronicled my escapades, once again, as Jemmy—this time, in the red and blue of the United States army. But that is another story.