Photos of Rose and her friends
It was 1958 and I was a 12-year old gawky kid, straight off the boat from England en route to Canada. A whirlwind visit with great aunts and great uncles, and sights of New York. And, of course, Rose, my second cousin. She was the epitome of elegance as she arrived home from her job, dressed in a black cashmere sweater and black pencil slim skirt. Full of laughter and smiles, and life. I remember that like it was yesterday. Years later, and I was now in the USA, we got together during her several business trips to Phoenix and we laughed and chuckled about our parallel professions - she dealing with errant stockbrokers, and me with errant lawyers. And the reunion in New York years ago (thank you Nick for enabling that) was another fabulous whirlwind of cousins and relatives. An evening at Rose's place was warm, fun and comforting, reflective of her. Ro and I stayed in touch over the years and always our phone calls and emails were full of l...
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