It's hard to describe my life since I married. So much has happened, and yet so little. Myultimate dream has come true. I've had a normal life - going to work, making dinner, doinglaundry, going out to eat with friends, celebrating holidays with Judy and her family, andvacations. And best of all, birthday parties for Charlie and me. I don't mean to imply that thefirst 21 years of my life have been totally forgotten. They're there, lying just below the surface ofconsciousness, occasionally bubbling up. Once I read a newspaper article about sex trafficking ofyoung girls which triggered a vision of the man in black, the priest, reaching out for me as I gotinto his car. It was so clear. It wasn't night time. It was day time so I saw him clearly. But therewas a difference this time. Aloud, I screamed, "No," and I ran away. The priest didn't follow me.Or, after talking to a co-worker who had just returned from the funeral for her grandson who wasstillborn, I had a bad dream about the babies I worked with at Southern all dying at the same

time. I couldn't do anything to stop what was happening. I frantically ran from crib to cribscreaming, "Don't die." Sometimes I'll see a person with blood-shot eyes and I'll picture JackMiller's face. I quickly blink my eyes to make him disappear. These reminders of my past showthat my unconscious is still mulling over these experiences, and always will. They're like bonesin a witch's cauldron that come to the surface when they're stirred up.But the memory that is always with me is Sarah. I think of her every day, especially whenI get up in the morning. I have a picture of the two of us from Judy's wedding in my bedroom.Every morning I go to the picture of Sarah and say, "Good morning Sarah," and I tell her what'son tap for the day. I think of her a lot at work. When I do something with the people I work with,like take them to a ball game, I think of how Sarah would have liked this. I have kept hermemory alive and I have tried to keep the memory of her murder dead and for the most part, I'vesucceeded.

My work has enriched me psychologically and spiritually. It has always been more than ajob. It has been a calling, a passion. There's always a new challenge that I have to meet, and asyou probably can tell from all I've said on this tape, I love challenges. I love overcomingobstacles that people say can't be overcome. It has been a joy going to work, if it was atLawndale House or Dirksen House or the Chicago Center for Disability Services. My first bigchallenge was helping Gladys set up Dirksen House for a new population, one that many thoughtcouldn't make it in the outside world. We set out to prove them wrong. Higher level individualshad been deinstitutionalized, most successfully. Now it was the time for people with significantdisabilities. It was their turn. There were so many different things we had to prepare for sincemany of the women were not ambulatory and most had significant medical problems. We had anLPN on duty 24/7 to handle medical emergencies, and there were lots. Gladys was committed tothe notion that nothing could prevent Dirksen House from being successful despite endlessunanticipated problems: we didn't expect our residents to die; we didn't expect the neighbors toprotest the location of Dirksen House; we didn't expect parents to resist deinstitutionalization oftheir children; we didn't expect to have staff quit without notice; we didn't expect to have ourfunding cut by one tenth in our second year of existence. I could go on and on, but to Gladys,these weren't obstacles. They were just bumps in the road that could be overcome. She wasDavid fighting Goliath, and I was her assistant handing her stones for her sling shot.

We had eight women who were living in the outside world, not just a small institution setin the community. We did not hide our ladies. They sat on the front porch and sunned and wavedto people who passed by. Volunteers took them on outings to the park and to stores. They wenton special buses in their wheelchairs to dances that were arranged by a local fraternity at anearby university. The frat boys wheeled them around in their chairs as they danced to rockmusic and squealed with delight. They went to church and met God who greeted them with openarms. We did all we could to normalize their lives, and I think we succeeded. We saw thesewomen smile, perhaps for the first time in their lives. How I treasured seeing those smiles lightup their faces. They meant more to me than a paycheck.

After seven years at Dirksen, Gladys and I were both promoted. She became Director ofDevelopment, basically the fundraiser, and I became Director of Programming for all the grouphomes that the Center owned in Chicago. I still have that job; I've never wanted any other job.I'm the person who makes sure that the residents in our homes are given as many normalizationexperiences as possible. I'm the one who makes sure that no one just sits around all day doingnothing. I'm haunted by visions of the ladies at Southern who lined the halls, just watching theirempty lives go by. That will never happen at our group homes. I love my job because every day Ifeel that I'm doing something to help my people, the same people I lived with for eight years atSouthern. Maybe all the women in my ward at Southern became my sisters and I'm justcontinuing to do good things for my family. And maybe I'm doing this for Sarah - I'm helpingpeople like her. My work is a tribute to my lost little sister.

Recently, my work has taken a totally new direction, one I never in a million yearsenvisioned. I'm working on a team to design and put into action a program designed formaximal normalization in the areas of marriage and parenting. Talk about a challenge! When Istarted at Lawndale House, these areas were taboo subjects. We didn't think that marriage andparenting were appropriate for the retarded. We thought a bit of safe sex was okay, but that wasas far as we would go. We acted responsibly and made sure that our sexually active women wereon the pill. Meaningful romantic relationships for our residents were encouraged only up to apoint - the point of boyfriend and girlfriend, sort of like high school dating. When an occasionalretarded person did marry, and did so successfully, we thought it was something unusual, ananomaly. Remember I talked about Lola, the woman who was released with Judy. Lola went to

church every week and that's where she met a man who she fell in love with. He was older,about 50, and had never been married. He owned several shoe stores and was quite comfortablemoney-wise. He knew all about Lola's past, but he still wanted to marry her. The staff tried topersuade Lola and him not to marry. Fortunately, they weren't persuaded. They're still happilymarried after all these years, and most interestingly Lola has become quite a businesswoman.She helps run the stores. She replaced her few rotten teeth with a mouthful of gleaming whitefalse teeth. She gets a chance to show them off because she smiles a lot, especially to the manycustomers she sells shoes to. She's a very happy woman.

The new program we're starting will have apartments for married retarded folks and theirkids, if they choose to have any. Some people will live together because they'll lose disabilitypayments or medical insurance if they marry. We will be providing comprehensive sexeducation, a family life program, and counseling appropriate to individual needs. We have manychallenges ahead of us, challenges that those of us who have worked with the retarded for manyyears never thought we would face. In terms of marriage, what will we do if the parents of theindividuals don't want their kids to marry? What if we feel that someone is making a seriousmistake in marrying, can we prevent them from doing so? What about abuse and neglect? Whatabout divorce? And of course, our greatest challenge involves parenthood. Some of our folksrealize that they could not handle parenting and will choose not to have kids. Others believe theycan, and they are right. But what about the people we don't think will be able to adequatelyparent, but still want to have children? What about individuals who have genetic forms ofretardation? Should we get genetic testing when they're pregnant and then require them to haveabortions if they're carrying a retarded child? What about individuals who neglect or abuse theirkids? We're treading on some dangerous legal and moral issues here. And then there's the issueof homosexuality. What should we do about homosexual relationships? If normal people canengage in homosexual relationships, why can't retarded people? These are complicated issuesfor the normal population, but a thousand times more complicated for the retarded. Anyhow, thisis the most exciting project I have ever worked on, and one that I know will make the lives ofretarded people infinitely richer.

Some years ago Gladys came to me with a delicate request. She wanted me to help herfundraise by sharing my experiences at Southern. She wanted me to go public, to tell the world

about the past I had spent my life trying to hide. She knew how hard this would be for me, butshe felt that it would help her raise money and it would help me heal. My first reaction was tosay no loud and clear. I was sure that if people found out about my past, the sky would fall. Iwould lose my job and people would reject me. But after lots of conversations with Charlie, Idecided to try it once, only once. I did tell Gladys that under no conditions would I ever tellanyone about my time as a prostitute, my pregnancy, or my sterilization.Gladys invited me to a private dinner with six of the biggest donors to the Center. Therewere several executives from the Center who did most of the talking first. I really don't knowwhat anyone said or what I even ate. I was so nervous. When dessert was served, it was my cueto give my pitch. We had rehearsed what I would say and how I would respond to questions, buteverything we practiced was lost as soon as Gladys introduced me. I just floundered around for aminute or two and then I let the words in my brain clear a pathway to my mouth."As Gladys said, I was a resident of Southern School for the Feebleminded for eightyears from 1963 to 1970. Of course, I wasn't retarded. I had been placed there because I hadgotten in trouble with the law and because I had no family and I was not considered a goodcandidate for foster home placement. I'm in the unique position to tell you what life was like inan institution for the retarded from the perspective of a normal person and why I am socommitted to making sure that institutions are eradicated and that good community placementsare available to everyone in need."

As I described life at Southern, I became more and more comfortable. Words just flowed.After speaking for about 20 minutes, I said I was open to questions. The first wasn't a question;it was a comment from Hugh Wheeler, president of the largest bank in Chicago and the parent ofa child with Down Syndrome.

"Mary, thank you for sharing your experience. I understand this is the first time thatyou've told people about this and I can't thank you enough for your bravery in coming forwardand your dedication to persons with special needs. When you spoke, I pictured my preciousdaughter Lilly at Southern. That is something that should never happen to anyone ever again.Thank you Mary."

As a result of my presentations, $150,000 was raised. $150,000 in one night!! What anunbelievable amount. Over the years, I've done a few more presentations like this with selectedwealthy donors. Each one has been successful in raising significant amounts of money. In a wayI've come out of the closet. Not all the way. Only far enough to raise money. But it has beenworth it and the sky hasn't fallen on me yet.

With Charlie's encouragement, I returned to school part time to get my bachelor'sdegree. It took four years, but I did it. I have a B.S. in Psychology from Lake View University. Ishowed you that diploma on my wall when you were here. Although Charlie wanted us to go tothe graduation ceremony, I couldn't. The horrible memories of the time when I graduated fromcommunity college kept popping up making it impossible for me to enjoy my achievement asmuch as I would have liked. I felt a sense of accomplishment, but not the joy I felt when Igraduated from community college.

Charlie's professional life has also changed a lot. He was asked by the principal at hisschool to go to grad school to get certified in school administration. He was being groomed tobecome a principal. He was ambivalent about this because he didn't want to give up coaching,but he did like the idea of being a leader of his own school. So he got his master's degree inschool administration and eventually became the assistant principal at two different high schoolsbefore becoming principal of Simon High School. There are about 3,000 kids in the school, and Ithink he knows everyone of them by name. He has a great relationship with all his teachers, andof course, he never misses a basketball game. He tries not to look over the basketball coach'sshoulder and tell him what to do, but he's not always successful.Our lives have revolved around our jobs and socializing with Judy and her family andJimmy and his family. We're godparents to Judy's son and to one of Jimmy's daughters. Jimmymarried a social worker named Carrie and they had three children in five years. Wow - werethey busy and we were glad to help out with babysitting and anything else they needed. Welived in the same apartment building for a while so we were always on call if there was anemergency and Jimmy was off at work. Being a cop, he was away a lot and couldn't just dropeverything and come home when he was needed. We've enjoyed other people's children andnever really missed having our own. Anyhow Charlie has lots of children at school and thepeople I work with have always been my children.

I resumed a superficial relationship with Dr. Warner, except for one time when we metand talked like we did in the old days. After he and Edith divorced, we got together for dinnerevery few months - Charlie, me, Dr. Warner, and a lady friend of his. There was one woman hesaw for about four years, but most of the time it was a different woman every time we went out.The women were all alike: tall, not short like Edith; dark, not light like Edith; well educated, notignorant like Edith; and working in helping professions, not like Edith who was interested onlyin her family tree and money. One woman was a psychiatric social worker, another a legal aidattorney, another a critical care nurse, and another director of a planned parenthood office. Thewomen were all attractive and interesting, and as different from Edith as possible. But Dr.Warner never got permanently involved with any of them.

Dr. Warner and Edith divorced a year after Sarah was murdered. After Sarah died, Edithput on this act pretending that she loved her retarded child who had been cruelly taken from her.She gave interviews to the newspapers with this story so the whole city of Chicago felt sorry forher. She conned millions of people. The outburst I had that last time I was at the Warner househad an impact on Dr. Warner. My words about Edith went straight to his heart. He knew I wasright. He knew Edith hated Sarah. He knew that she was glad she was dead. He couldn't standher hypocrisy and the ugliness of their marriage anymore so he divorced her. She kept the housein Chicago and the lake house in Michigan, but she gave Dr. Warner lots of money, enough tobuy a condo on the 30th floor of a building overlooking Lake Michigan. Maybe it was hushmoney so he wouldn't tell the world about the real Edith Warner.

Edith died of stomach cancer in 1991. I think of Edith as being like my mother, the onlydifference was that Edith was fabulously wealthy. They both didn't really love anybody. I don'tthink Edith even loved Dr. Warner. He was her possession, like her paintings - somethinghandsome and charming and smart to show off. And Edith hated her daughter, just like Eileenhated me. So in my life I've known two cruel, evil mothers, who on the surface are as differentas can be, but once you dig down you find that they are birds of a feather - vultures.About 10 years ago Dr Warner called and asked if I'd meet to have a chat, like old times.I was surprised because I rarely heard from him, and when I did it was to invite Charlie and meto dinner. We met at the library at Northwestern. It was a pleasant Saturday in September so wesat on a bench and watched the students loaded with books trudging up and down the stairs.

"Mary, you probably wonder why out of the blue I want to talk to you. Since Sarah'sdeath, I've talked to you a lot in my head and I thought that I probably won't live much longerso I wanted to get some stuff off my chest. No - I'm not dying. I just said that because I'mgetting old and death doesn't seem that far away.

I'm still unsure about my belief in God, except when I think about Sarah. Then I thinkthere is a God and he created Sarah to suffer, much like Christ. I think maybe we can onlyachieve joy and peace through suffering. So I think Sarah achieved joy and peace after the yearsof suffering at Southern. And she was created to give fulfillment to others, again like Christ. Ialways felt a calming, healing sense of peace when I was with Sarah that I never felt with anyoneelse. Sometimes when you were away at school, I'd get Sarah from her room and we'd sit in thegarden for a while. Not talking, just being together. For me, that was the strangest experience.How could I be with someone and not talk or laugh or cry? It was enough to just watch the grassgrow. I felt a sense of holiness about her. I felt that she was imbued with God's spirit. Of course,she didn't know any of this. She couldn't understand it even if I tried to explain it to her.After she died, God died for me too. Her death paralyzed me, especially the violence ofit. I couldn't understand how someone could actually plunge a knife into an innocent girl's back.This girl who was my flesh and blood. This girl who I tried to love, maybe not alwayssuccessfully, but who I cared for probably more than any other human being. How could hecarve her up? How could he butcher her? In my mind's eye, I saw him killing her. I saw the knifepenetrate her skin and break open her back. I saw the blood gushing out. I saw it all in agonizingslow motion. Her life turned off in a split second. I couldn't escape these visions. The brutalityof it played over and over in my head when I was awake and came to me in my dreams when Islept.

What made this man do it? Was he crazy? Was he evil? What kind of God let his happen?What kind of God let a savage like Jack Miller take the life of an innocent lamb like Sarah? Icouldn't believe in this kind of God or any God. After Sarah's death, I retired from teaching. Icouldn't concentrate on the needs of my students. Lecturing and grading papers seemedunimportant. My only focus was on the murder. I was driving myself crazy. I knew I had to stopobsessing about it so I tried going to church, something I'd never done before especially becauseEdith wanted me to. I didn't get much out of it at first, but I continued going anyway. It was the

only place I could stop the replay of the murder in my head. One Sunday morning sitting in frontof me was a woman with Down Syndrome. She wasn't pretty like Sarah. In fact, she was ratherugly, but so was her mother. She must have sensed me staring at her so she turned around andgave me this angelic smile, just like Sarah. I swear the church got brighter when she smiled. Andsuddenly the world was okay. I knew I would heal, and I have. I realize that I did the right thingby taking Sarah out of Southern and by having you as her companion. I realize that for the fiveyears that she lived with me, she was happy as she would never have been anywhere else. Hermurder is something I can't understand. Jack Miller was evil and he killed good, but we can't lethim win by letting him destroy our lives. You learned that lesson through Charlie. I had to learnit, but without the help of another person.

So I've tried to get on with my life. Since I retired from teaching I devote all my time todifferent projects that benefit other people - working at a soup kitchen on Skid Row,volunteering on a cancer ward at a hospital, and being a big brother to black inner city kids whohave become my best sailing buddies. One of them, Randy, is a born sailor even though he wasactually born in the projects on the West Side and hadn't ever been to Lake Michigan until I tookhim out on the boat. I'm trying to give back for the blessings I did have - Sarah and you. I thinkof my life now and my life as Edith's showpiece and I can honestly say I'm much happier nowthan I was when I lived the country club life. The only thing I've kept from that life is sailing.When I'm on the water, I'm free. I'm at peace."

"I wish you'd told me about your time alone with Sarah. You know I always felt that Godgave me Sarah as a substitute for my lost baby. I, too, felt a sense of peace when I was with her.It wasn't her. It was God coming out through her."

Then he talked about me. "Mary, I feel that you too have God in you. When he createdyou, he gave you a spine of steel. I can't think of anyone who could have survived what you didand come out a good person. I certainly couldn't have done it. I think a lot about what you did atSouthern. Here you were this uneducated, abused, unloved child who was cast into a hellishenvironment. Where did you find it in your heart to nurture the sick and the dying when younever experienced love or kindness? Where did that come from? Where? Sometimes we all dointentional acts of kindness, and sometimes we do random acts of kindness, but you live in astate of kindness. Kindness is woven into your very being."

"Dr. Warner, I don't know who you're talking about when you talk about me like that. Ithink it's someone in your imagination. It's who you want me to be, and not who I am. But youknow what? It inspires me to live up to your expectations of me. And that is what I learned fromyou during our Sunday morning talks - to try to live in a state of kindness."Dr. Warner had brought this briefcase with him, which I thought was odd. Why did heneed a briefcase for our chat? It was a bulky old-fashioned kind of briefcase. He opened it andtook out an urn.

"Mary, these are Sarah's ashes. I know this sounds strange, but I want you to have them.I thought of spreading them at the zoo or the duck pond where she was so happy, but I think theybelong to you. In life, you loved her more than anyone else. In death, you still love her. And youwere the only person Sarah ever loved. I know she just thought of me as a nice man. Shecouldn't love me. We didn't have a history with me like she had with you."I was astounded. I had never anticipated anything like this, but I realized it was right forme to have Sarah's ashes. That urn was on the fireplace mantel in my home for a while. Sarahlived on in my heart and in my home until I found the perfect place for her ashes to spendeternity.

Dr. Warner and I never talked like that again. He died of a heart attack two years ago. Hewas 90. I wish I had a chance to say good bye to him, but there were no unspoken words leftbetween us. I told him what he meant to me, and he told me what I meant to him. We talkedabout so many subjects, but the one subject we never reached any resolution on was evil. JackMiller was born evil, and he destroyed purity and goodness when he killed Sarah. Why had Godcreated Jack Miller, and why does God allow evil to exist? We never got anywhere with thosequestions. I suppose we're like all the philosophers and religious thinkers who have asked thesequestions since the beginning of time. But it's not only deep thinkers who ask these questions,it's anybody who has been touched by evil. And that's all of us.

To see how normal our life became, we did what every couple dreams of doing - about15 years ago we bought a house. I can't tell you how important this was to me. To have my ownhome - a place for just me and Charlie. It's in Rogers Park, near Loyola which is theneighborhood that Charlie has always liked because that was where his first home was in

Chicago. When you visited us, you saw that we have a perfect house for our needs. It's got asmall backyard and front yard so we can do a little gardening which I love. Since I sat in theWarners' garden watching different flowers grow season by season, I've wanted to have my owngarden, and now I do. I sit in my back yard and see my very own daffodils, tulips, roses, andmums mark the passing of time.

When I saw my name on the deed of the house, I was so proud that I had attained this - aproperty owner. I made a photocopy of the deed and hung it with the other framed evidence ofmy being a competent adult. My wall of competence keeps growing. Speaking of my wall ofcompetence, you probably wonder why I have it. Well, I don't have it for other people to see. Ihave it for me so that every day I can see how far I've come, to see how I have overcomeunbelievable adversity, and to see how God has blessed me. It's not only my wall of competence,it's also my wall of pride.

Charlie and I have shared a rich life filled with gratifying work and friends and travel.Charlie and I took our first trip on our honeymoon when we went to Washington D.C. In fourdays we saw every monument. Most people didn't think we were on our honeymoon because wespent little time in our hotel room. We had plenty of time for love making, but not plenty of timeto see the White House, the Capitol, Washington Monument, Lincoln Monument, JeffersonMonument, and the Smithsonian. I get tired just thinking of all we saw. And we've continued totravel to New York, California, the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, and Florida. We haven't goneout of the country yet. We're saving Europe for when life slows down, which I'm not sure willever happen so we may never go abroad, but that's okay.

Our lives have also been filled with the inevitable sadness that comes with aging. Twoyears ago, Leo was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He had developed several health issues.First, he had diabetes so he was given medication and put on a diet. He lost a lot of weight, buthe didn't look good. He looked wasted. Finally, they found the cancer. In the last three months ofhis life, I spent a lot of time with him. I felt like I did when I nurtured the dying in the Southernhospital ward. We didn't talk a lot; we just spent most of the time holding hands and my readingthe Bible. Volunteers from Hospice came to help with medication and support. Monica who wasan oncology nurse said that I gave Leo as much support as the Hospice workers. She suggestedthat I consider becoming a Hospice volunteer, and recently I took the training. I haven't had a

chance to start working with anyone yet, but I look forward to that. I think I'll feel like I didwhen I was a kid at Southern who helped people die in peace.

Leo died two year ago as did Dr. Warner. Their funerals were so different, but yet alikebecause they both honored fine men. There were about 40 people at Dr. Warner's funeral. All ofus there owed him something. He had changed our lives; he made us better people. Some of hisformer Northwestern students spoke of how he inspired them to be the best that they could be.Several went on to successful academic careers, in fact one was president of a small college andanother was an author of some of the most popular textbooks in English history. One became astate senator, and another a heart surgeon. The student who Dr. Warner helped when he gotcancer was there. He spoke only one emotion-filled sentence, "Dr. Warner saved my life."There were three black men who had been Dr. Warner's Little Brothers over the years.They thanked him for his financial generosity and for his guidance and affection. One hadfinished college and was an accountant, another worked for the Chicago Transit Authority, andthe third was a manager of a drug store. They spoke of him more as a father than as a bigbrother. Because of him, they were able to avoid the crime and drugs that plagued theirneighborhoods. And they all thanked him for giving them the special feeling of freedom thatcame with sailing.

And then there was the man who Dr. Warner met at the soup kitchen on Skid Row. Hewas an alcoholic who Dr. Warner worked with. He had been alcohol free for 12 years and wasback working as a graphic artist, his job before his fall into homelessness and alcohol. He hadmarried and named his son Mark after Dr. Warner. He hoped that Mark's spirit would live onthrough his son. He showed everyone pictures of little Mark who looked remarkably like theMark he was named after.

Michelle and Jackson were there. Mrs. Brown had died about 10 years earlier. Theythanked him for his generosity and his support of their education. I didn't know this, but he paidfor their college tuition. Michelle was now a teacher and Jackson owned an auto body shop.Although I hadn't planned to, I made some remarks. I felt compelled to publicly honorthis man who had given me so much.

"Dr. Warner believed in me at a time when I didn't believe in myself. I didn't know whoI was or who I could become. He told me that I could achieve whatever I set out to do and I did. Ibecame a college graduate because of him. I became a better human being because of his beliefthat I could live a blessed life. He saw in me things that no one else saw and these things becamereality."

I would have liked to speak on behalf of Sarah, but I couldn't. If I could though, I wouldhave told everyone how Dr. Warner saved her from life in a cruel institution, how he made herhappy by giving her her first book, by getting her a pet to love, by taking her to the zoo, and mostimportantly, by saving me so that I could love her. I would say that she, in turn, gave meaning tohis life and by dying she led him to find the goodness in his heart so that he, too, could live in astate of kindness.

I should mention that Walter was at the funeral, but he didn't offer any tribute to hisfather. He didn't acknowledge me, not even with a nod. I don't know why. Did he blame me insome way for what happened to his family? Walter has been a puzzle to me. The only thing Ican see that he's done with his life is run his successful law firm and manage the hugeinheritance from Edith. He never re-married and had minimal contact with his father afterSarah's death. So the Wilson/Warner family tree will come to an end with Walter's death. Allthat will remain after he dies will be his millions of dollars. I hope he leaves his money to goodcauses like Dr. Warner did. Thanks to Edith's money, Dr. Warner was able to leave his 11million dollar estate to worthy charities like those that advocate for the disabled, Big Brothersand Big Sisters, and the cancer center at the hospital where he volunteered.After the service, I went up to Walter to offer my condolences on the loss of his father.He looked right through me and was silent, not even saying thank you. Maybe he blames me forwhat happened to Sarah, or maybe he feels guilty for what he failed to do to help Sarah and hisparents. But that's his cross to bear, but only if he has a heart and I'm not sure he does.Shortly after going to Dr. Warner's funeral, Charlie and I went to Leo's funeral. Thatwasn't really a funeral; it was a celebration of his life. There were so many people filling thechurch and the social hall that it was hard to move. All of these people were there because theyloved Leo. I was shocked that Judy found the strength to give a eulogy for him. I thought she

would have been too grief-stricken, but she spoke calmly, even serenely. She spoke of the manwho was the love of her life - who didn't have a mean bone in his body and only wanted to doGod's work by loving his family, his friends, and his bus passengers. She said the first day whenshe met Leo on the Clark Street bus was the first day she started to live. When he smiled at her,she took her first intake of air. She ended by saying that God consecrated their marriage, andthey would live happily ever after in Heaven. His son, Joseph, shared fond memories of a lovingfather who was always there for his children. He described the everyday things Leo did thatshowed his love of God and his dedication to doing God's will on Earth. He looked up at the roofof the church and told us to look up so we could see Leo's soul ascending to Heaven. I wasreminded of the dying people at Southern who I helped into Heaven. Leo didn't need helpgetting into Heaven - God had his arms out eagerly awaiting him. He was especially lookingforward to hearing some of Leo's corny jokes. His daughter Monica was too overcome with griefto speak. In fact, her wailing was so loud it almost drowned out the words of the speakers.And then it was my turn to speak.

"I can't think of Leo without thinking of Judy. There were like one person to me. Theyboth saved me when I was destitute, when I was lost. When I needed a home, they opened theirdoor to me. When I was an orphan, they made me part of their family. Leo accepted my sisterSarah too. His heart was as big as his body. And that laugh. How could you be sad when youheard that life-affirming laugh? In fact, I think Leo's looking down at us now and laughing.Thank you Leo for giving meaning and direction to my life. I will remember you and honor youforever."

And then Charlie spoke.

"Leo and I shared an insane passion for the Bulls and the Bears. I loved going to gameswith him because he cheered louder than anyone in the stands. He chastised people if they didn'tcheer. At critical points in a game, he would yell encouragement to our side, and he would yellwords I didn't know he knew to the other team. Leo's love of his teams was a reflection of hislove of life. I can't think of anyone who enjoyed life more than Leo - he enjoyed his family, hisfriends, his job, his sports, and his God. Thank you Leo for showing us how to enjoy our livestoo."

Of course, Carl couldn't come to the funeral because he was in jail. No one mentionedhim. He was and is the heartbreak of Judy's life, but she never stopped praying for him andhoping that someday he would find his way to God.

Anyhow the 39 years since I left Southern have more than made up for the unhappinessof the first 21 years of my life. And I have to give credit to God who found me when I was at mylowest point and led me to live a life of giving to others and doing His work. Charlie and I havegone to a whole lot of churches to see if we can find a congregation and a minister who wouldsatisfy our religious needs. But we haven't found one that is right for us. To make sure we keepGod in our lives, we pray together every night before we go to bed. We pray for peace in theworld, we pray that our leaders will protect us, and mostly we pray that we will live in a state ofkindness.