She came.........May 14th, 1972.  With her dark skin and dark hair, a total opposite from my pale Irish complection and red hair.  She was an intruder, come to take the limelight off of me and turn it upon herself..............I was bitter.  Glacinda was her name, a combination of my mother's name, Linda and my maternal grandfather's name, Gleason.  She was adorable and completely annoying.  I was a rebel in a foreign land of aliens who were no longer completely bowled over by my dancing antics and my evil ways.  I would have to concoct other means by which to get the attention that I so deserved.

So, I started kindergarten and became a hypochondriac.  As a toddler I had been rather sickly, so I decided to carry this over into my rather grown up life as big sister and kindergartner.  I was surely going to die on a daily basis.  Every scrape or bruise was most definitely melanoma.  Bumps were of course cancerous tumors and I was convinced (with my grandmother's help) that if I did not eat all of the food on my dinner plate that I would develop leukemia.  I of course had no real clue as to what these diseases were, only that they killed people.  People like my Papa Majors who passed of stomach cancer.

I hated school, worse than Kiddie Kollege.  I didn't want to sit in a circle indian style for book reading time.  I didn't want to fingerpaint or play with blocks.  I wanted to be home, searching my body for discoloration and watching the Mod Squad!  This school thing was not for me!  My mind was too creative for this, it kept wandering, making up stories, my soul craved drama and I was not finding it here........that is until Brian Blanco decided to stick his hands down my pants one day during storytime......

Now let me tell you about my grandpa.  He was a 6ft 5" Dutchman with hands the size of hams.  He served both in the Army and the Air Force.  In the Air Force he was an airplane mechanic and continued on in that profession during his civilian life.  He had a tender, heart of gold, but that all changed when Brian Blanco's fingers did the walking.  He called the school and demanded a meeting with a mortified Mr. and Mrs. Blanco and my teacher.  He dragged me along with him and I had to stand there and listen as he pointed his large finger into the faces of Brian's parents and demanded that if they didn't do something with their little pervert, that he would.  And then, he turned on the teacher and demanded that Brian not be allowed within spitting distance of me in the future.  From then on, Brian was always on the opposite side of the circle during story time.

I adored my grandfather.  He would go to the store almost everyday to pick up things my grandma needed and always returned with something for me.  He would take me way out onto the country backroads, set me on his lap and let me "drive" his old Pontiac.  He would lead me around his farm explaining to me about all of the animals and the things growing in the garden.  He would take me into the garage and try to explain to me about how the engine in the car worked, as though I understood or even cared.  He was my hero and Brian Blanco's worst nightmare.