I look very much like my beloved Aunt Fran. That often led to people saying or doing strange things. At one wedding, the people who lived above my aunt for decades said to me, “Roberta, how are your children?” Roberta was my aunt’s daughter. I was thirteen! When my aunt was in Senior Housing, I never had to use the bell to enter. The other residents opened the door with, “You are Frances’ daughter, come in.” When my aunt died, one of my friends came to the wake and nearly fainted to see someone who looked so much like me laid out. When my aunt’s granddaughter came to a gathering at her father’s long after her g’mother had died, she saw me, took a couple of steps back and said, “Nana.” And, when a friend had lunch with my aunt’s son and me, she walked into his living room, picked up an 8×10 photo of his mother and said, “I’ve never seen this photo of you, Kath.” David had to convince her it was Aunt Fran and not me. Looking like our relatives comforts me in some way. My cousin Bevy looks like my mother and I love seeing those expressions and mannerisms again. Our Willard is the image of my father in virtually every way. It is so much like being with my dad every time he comes here or I am in Toronto. It provides history … a connection to those gone and a link to the future. I loved and respected Frances Dodge Gordon and I do my best to keep her spirit alive in my face.