How do you put all the wonderful information about one's only daughter on a single page? It's a nearly-impossible task . . . but I'll try.   And why did I wait so long to develop a page for Susan?   Perhaps because she didn't almost drown [as Curt did] and wasn't among the missing [as was David] - she's just always been there, and we all appreciate that. She also played a huge part in reuniting us with David! Susan was born in 1960 - a baby-boomer for sure, but the term wasn't invented until later. Sue was a delightful child, relishing in the fact that by the time she was 17-months old, she had a baby brother to love and help Mommy care for. Sibling rivalry was another term with which we had no experience. I'll repeat a favorite story from David's page: I vividly remember one cold, winter Sunday morning while living in New York state. We "slept in," which is a rare occurrence with children. After a few waking moments, I realized the children were unusually quiet and that I should check on them. Susan's room contained no sleeping daughter. Turning, I walked the few steps to David's door and through the crack, saw the two of them sitting on the floor quietly playing with building blocks. "Wait a minute!" I thought. "Susan's wearing David's blue sleeper. Her flannel nightgown lies in a pile on the floor. David is in his undershirt and diaper with bare arms, legs and feet. He appears happy enough, but the thermostat is somewhere around sixty-two and it's chilly!" Three-year-old Susan managed to get David, eighteen months, out of the crib and his sleeper. She donned the warm fuzzy garment and was cozy while her happy little brother sat covered with goose-bumps. It didn't seem to bother him - that was "small stuff." On November 22, 1963, during a small birthday party with the children of our minister, news came via an 80-year-old neighbor, that President Kennedy had been assassinated. It was devastating, and although the children were too young to understand, they saw some TV coverage and recognized the Life Magazine cover shots displayed at the grocery store. Susan & David, and Caroline & John Kennedy wore red leather oxfords in those days, and every time I see a pair of children's red shoes, I think of that. Just before entering kindergarten, Susan had a second brother with whom to bond. She was an active and happy child never requesting more than her share of time and attention. She spoiled me and I grew to rely on her assistance; she loved assisting in the care of the new baby. By age seven, we had moved from South Salem, New York, to Milford, Connecticut, where Sue was in the second grade. Our next door neighbors included a girl of the same age and they became fast friends, Brownies in the same troop and choir members in the church choir. Susan and Lesley went for a walk. Both girls took their doll carriages and their "babies" with them, and if I remember correctly, it was late spring, cool, but warm enough for shorts as they �sauntered� down the street beneath my bedroom window. In a matter of fifty-feet, each one in turn, stopped to cover their baby, check that they were comfortable, and then started up again, the entire time jabbering to each other like little magpies. The sight brought tears to my eyes and an ache in my heart. "No more little girl, I thought, "but a wanna� be mommy in the making!" Right then and there, I sat down with a piece of paper and penned a letter to my daughter, telling her how I felt, and that I would save it until she was sixteen. Then I would give it to her . . . which I did. A simple gesture, meaningful only to me at the time, grew in its importance over the years. Susan keeps that letter today! Before long, the girls "flew up" into Girl Scouts. I assisted the troop leader by helping ten girls with their sewing badge. Instead of tackling the prescribed apron, we decided long wraparound skirts would be much more fun. Well, . . . that Christmas morning, ten young "ladies" paraded into their living rooms wearing their creations and with purposefully, deep hems, they wore them for several years before outgrowing them. Of course all ten received their merit badges! At thirteen, Susan was sewing some of her own clothing and she made her own gown for her babysitter's wedding. Sue was tall and looked so grown up as a junior bridesmaid. Mom was pretty proud, as you can tell. Braces, growing pains, boys, teen-age years . . . they all slipped by so quickly we hardly knew what hit us. Susan was a good student and accomplished great things. In January of her Junior year in high school, she was accepted to Berkeley School of Design in New York - the only school to which she chose to apply. She was in her element and graduated at the head of her class, moving into her own apartment in New York City and accepting employment with Bloomingdales as an Assistant Buyer. Mike and I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know our way around NYC with Susan's able assistance. She never told of the mugging incident until months later (so we wouldn't worry), or her tackling some overspending and getting that straightened out on her own. She was ahead of her time and still chooses a debt-free lifestyle!   Several male relationships came and went and then "Charlie" stepped into the picture. They met in a Gristedes market on the Upper West Side of New York City and the rest of the story is theirs to tell. BUT . . . on September 8, 1985, Mike and I offered our daughter's hand in marriage and we could not have been happier for her.   Susan is tall, trim, poised, a marvelous public speaker; I could go on and on. I could list her many accomplishments, but she would be embarrassed so I'll not "go there." Just know, Honey, that we love you!   Susan and Charlie were married September 8, 1985, in New York City. June 1987 brought the birth of our first grandchild � Bridget Catherine. What a joy and delight in our lives then . . . and NOW!