Letter from Annie Stafford

I first met Rosemary and Victor when I was in high school in Washington, D.C.  Victor was with the Washington Post at the time, and Nan Rothwell and I went to pick them up at international arrivals at Dulles Airport.  From
that time on I had a surrogate mother and wonderful friend.  

My own mother is, this very month, leaving my home where we've been living together for two years, to move to an assisted living facility; I feel as though I've lost two mothers in a short time.  

Rosemary believed in me when I didn't believe in myself.  She saw something in me I still only occasionally get a glimpse of - she saw someone finer, better.  My father was a Marine, so I needed Rosemary to show me the other swing of the arc.  Her love  and respect for children, her lack of conventionality, her love of poetry brought me closer to who she saw me to be.

This is my 50th year, as it is Nan's.  After Nan and I were together last weekend I remembered Rosemary's 50th birthday party held at the Rothwell Farm in Emmitsburg, MD.  It was a happy time for me, surrounded by
interesting adults who had come to be with Rosemary.  

I hope that I can be as important to someone during my life as she was to me.