Most old papers began with a prologue, which was often called an apology; now I shall write my prologue/apology. Joyce has asked that I write all that I remember about this family, the Harlan children, their lives and the lives of their antecedents. It is often wise, before the old forget, to put into their hands the means of recording their stories of their pasts: the tales, the motives, the drives, the desires which shaped their lives. Elizabeth Jones (you will meet her later) often complained that Captain Jones changed the tales which he told of Navy life - with each telling. I suggested to their son, Ray Stanley Jr., that he put into his Father's hands a tape recorder. Capt could tell his tales to his heart's content, not bother Elizabeth's sense of accuracy, and the tapes could be listened to, enlarged upon, corrected or forgotten.

So here I am, grown older, wanting but not needing an occupation to fill these later days, having the challenge of controlling a computer - a recent new-fangled invention - so that I may record the days of our lives (some how); Jim and Jeanne gave me one - a computer, for Christmas. As I recount my memories (I have spent a life-time forgetting) which are recalled because I have the time to look back into the past, because they were of special import in our lives, because there was some special relationship to an ideal or a philosophical theory which my reading and my days have given me; and because one thing leads to another, the tale lengthens.

Much I have forgotten; I try not to carry with me too much dead weight which is better forgotten; animosities of the moment do not often have long term effects unless -- well there can be many reasons for clinging to the negative and they are generally negative reasons. Dates and years lose their meaning after a while; they cease to be the important milestones which they were when those days were being lived. So I shall send copies of my memories to different people; and I hope that they will take the time to recall their version of whatever it is that they read. Perhaps, between all of us, we shall be able to paint a more accurate picture of the things which motivated us and of the things which enrichened all of our lives.

I consider this family to be an exceptional family: exceptionally gifted intellectually by their genetic inheritance, medically protected by those same genes, and given unusual opportunities by the work of their Father. Now this is not simple partiality for I see the happenstances of my years as validating my opinion. As the man on the trip sponsored by the Committee for the Restoration of the Frank Llyod Wright-Affleck House asked: "Can you assess your own true value?" He had been listening to me talk to others who were on that bus. He did not know that the measure I use are the accomplishments of my children. Perry Gresham, who was gathering material for a book, was asking people whom he knew just what were the most influential forces in their lives. In mine, my parents, my husband, my children, and the years which I spent with them. Was I always given the best? Not necessarily for there are unknown and unexpected factors which constantly shape decisions, but when the percentages are on your side, most things work out well. Sometimes even the negative is for the best as when a parent, because of love for you, says "no." Positive thinking? That's true. It gives you peace of mind to assess the probabilities, recognizing that in the long term almost everything, based on the evidence of the past, will be favorable. I had a conversation with Loretta Deneny about inherited defects. She, a member of the Murray family taught for years in a State school for the retarded, had had a grandchild with multiple sclerosis that had died; that family was then waiting for the second child to follow the first. She agreed that such problems are more apt to occur in families where there had been past instances of the defect. Knowledge of the past is important. It has, for the most part, for this family been a good past; not one based on dreaming, wishful thinking, but on dedication and hard work. Who worked? From the evidence of old tales and the history of old times, I know that several generations before C. Allen and I had worked hard; but hard is different for different people in different times, in different places and in different circumstances. C. Allen, in his way, struggled with problems about which few people knew. Even though he came home from a hard day's work at the ball park with his throat raw from shouting, there were aspects of that day that had needed his best concentration. Often tired, weary, my back against the wall, I felt like the low man on the totem pole. Then I would decide that there would have been no totem without the low man. I think that your point of view, your health, your state of mind depends mostly on where you stand, what you see, what you must accept, and how determined you are to shape the remainder to your liking, to your needs, not to your wants. Needs and wants -- there is a difference. The point from which you view your world is always changing. Challenging!

Do you recall the first time that you looked through binoculars from the wrong end? Sida was much perturbed when the Duke came home from school with an assignment: write about who you are. She may have considered that an invasion of privacy. To me, it was amusing. Who am I? I am either the center of the universe or a speck of dust upon a speck of dust some where in space. Perhaps the view of life through the wrong end of the binoculars is the true one. If so, it is what we have. We have more than most people have with which to work.

Now I must decide just how to put all of my memories together. Times? People? Places? When? What? Who? I suspect that all of my wandering will be just like the French 'pot au feu'. That is just what life is....a rich and nourishing broth.

Enjoy.