I should have told you weeks ago about my early morning reading over the holidays. When your book was being completed I thought, "How could she ever transfer the wind and movement of the panels to paper and ink?" You did. You captured that indescribable muddle of memory where time gets mixed with yesterdays and creates a sort of reverie. Like an oil and water painting in the sun, everyone's thoughts came together to compose what that place 'feels' like when you sit in a daze with the wind and the gulls. Bravo! It's a little jewel.

I posted an older photograph in the collections section of our Web site a couple of years ago. The photo was labelled on the back “old slave house on Lockwood Street” I was contacted recently by a woman whose family lived on the street, perhaps in that house, many years ago. She said that, although her family was African American, no one had been a slave. She wondered where the title came from. I do not know, so I’m throwing the question out there for anyone who might have a clue. If that’s you, please post a comment.

Michael Bell