Can I say that Maya Angelou reminds me of my mother? A white, Irish Catholic woman who grew up in Boston? The best person I have ever known, and who I talk to everyday in spite of her being gone three years now. She had the same grace, dignity and poise of speech as Miss Maya. The same quality of authenticity. She taught me to be patient, and to understand that all living things mattered. That I mattered. That one cannot give too much love, but to step aside from those who only want to injure. In small ways, every day, she fought against injustice and would weep quietly over any depiction of war. She knew suffering in her own life, but refused to focus on it. I will miss her forever, but find myself in these current times leaning on the reverberations of calm steadiness that she left behind in my being. I thank you Evelyn G. Breen Blanchard, with all my heart.