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too far to drive daily, but she insisted. If I couldn’t take her, she would take a bus. It caused problems. Finally, my father suggested that she get a driver’s license. No women drove in our family so it seemed like a radical idea.
    “But Christina got her license. My father bought her a car, a 1967 Buick. It was so big that we had to park it on Antoine where the street is wider. Every morning she got up at four and started the baking for the day watching the clock the entire time. We baked all the rolls and bread on site back in those days. She’d finish by nine. My father would tell her she could leave. She’d grab her purse, kiss me good bye, and run out the door. It took over an hour to get to Rochester.
    “She made the trip daily until he was six months old and could start taking a bottle. Then they moved him to the state home in Plymouth. It was a long trip; she took Grand River to Plymouth Road all the way. I was worried sick about her driving and it never occurred to me to ask my parents if I could go with her. I had to work. It was what men did.
    “He got better and better physically. However, there was that intellectual deficit. He wouldn’t have survived living here. People are too cruel. My own mother could barely tolerate acknowledging his existence. “‘We don’t have any retardation in our family,’” she’d say in front of me. My mother was a dichotomy all right; a spiritual giant on one hand and an ignorant peasant on the other. It was what I grew up with. But don’t repeat it to your father,” he said to Andy. “It might start a family war. Big Andy is loyal to a fault about family.” Andy smiled; it was true. He’d never heard his father say a negative thing about anyone, let alone family.
    “Of course, just two years later you were born,” Gus looked at Jill. “You were our salvation. You were perfect in every way. You talked before you were one year old, did you know that? I often thought it may have been somewhat of a curse.” He looked at her deadpan. They laughed. “The house was full with you from the start. Your grandparents allowed behavior from you that would have threatened the lives of their own children. I once heard you tell my mother that she would be a lot more attractive if she shaved in the morning, ‘Like my Papou does,’ you said. I thought your mother would faint.”
    “I did not say that!” Jill exclaimed.
    “Oh, you did, and more. We had to all be on our toes around you and not do anything that we didn’t want the entire neighborhood to know about,” Gus chuckled. And then he quietly said, “The daily trips to Plymouth started up again when you were just a month old. And then when you were eight, she had the accident.” Father and daughter looked at each other sadly. It was not a topic that was discussed. This was an important moment, and although she dreaded it in theory, she knew it was time.
    “What happened, Papa? I mean I know what happened, but how did you hear? How did you manage?”
    “Andy, are you sure you want to go down this road with us?” Gus looked at his nephew with pity.
    “I do, Uncle Gus. I have often thought about what you went through; how I would never be able to do it...raise a kid by myself.” Gus smiled at his nephew.
    “I had my parents to help me,” he said. “I remember it like it was yesterday. There was a member of the family available about every twenty-five miles. We often had a relay across the state. I’d take something to Dearborn, Big Andy would take it to Northville, Pete would take it to Nick who worked out of Brighton, and Nick would take it to John in Eaton Rapids. Sophie was in Grand Rapids and Maria was in Saugatuck. No one had to drive more than an hour. My mother had bread and pies transported like that for years. Where was I? Oh, right. I was going to tell you about the day Christina died.
    “She was coming home from seeing Christopher and got tired and fell asleep. That’s all there was to it.