This picture was taken when I was four and a half months old.
Journaling reads: “My Grandpa Paul had called me Mary for as long as I could remember. I wouldn’t have minded, except that my name isn’t Mary. One day, when I was about ten years old, I asked him in exasperation, “Grandpa, do you even know my name?” “Well, sure,” he said, “Your name is Virginia.” “Then why do you always call me Mary?” I asked. He smiled, and replied, “Because, sweetheart, you look just like my mother.” I didn’t mind being called Mary so much after that, but Grandpa made it a point to call me by my name.”
Be blessed!
Virginia
