When my mother was 30 years old, she played first violin with the Santa Fe Orchestra. A friend that also played in the Orchestra told her about a tall, handsome, single man that lived in California. My mother was also told that this Californian believed in communal living on his land and he loved lots of animals, fruit trees and gardens. She started to write letters with this man who was named Ken. They wrote letters back and forth for six months until Ken decided to drive to Santa Fe to meet my mother. They arranged to meet on the steps of the Santa Fe Public Library. They met and it was love at first sight. They married soon afterwards. Ken is my father. Yesterday, I went to the Indian Market in Santa Fe wearing one of my mother’s favorite dresses. It is appropriate that I have a photo standing on the steps where my parents met and fell in love.