I always looked forward to my DonorPerfect trips to the South Bay because it meant staying with your parents. Your dad always made a point of noticing my earrings or my haircut, and your mom made me feel totally comfortable without feeling fussed over. In their company I felt interested and interesting. Sometimes we ate leftovers, sometimes they generously took me out to sample local restaurants. This was the only house I knew at the time where you could find a cute 70 year old decked out in aerobics duds talking on a dial phone! Before I arrived, Eunice would check the TV listings to see if National Geographic was showing anything I was particularly interested in, and then we'd watch it together. At the end of the night, she and I would often sit together on the couch with the neighbors' cat sprawled across one or both of us, and I felt how nice it would have been to grow up as one of your friends in Saratoga. Your mother was warm, kind, generous, curious, educated and modest. But if there's one word that keeps coming to mind when I picture her in all her guises, it's dignity. Even when she was showing me how to use the iron and ironing board, she did it with a gentle, admirable dignity. This may be the reason I have no mixed feelings about Eunice, only a strong, clear appreciation for the time spent with her, and a deep respect for how she lived her life.