I vividly remember waiting impatiently for my "Fresh Air
Fund Sister" to arrive that first summer. It was the summer of
1973. As a young child, it was impossible for me to imagine the
girl who would be spending two weeks with us at our home in
suburban New Jersey. We were told that she lived in Manhattan, and
her name was Judy. She was three years older than I. Would she be
taller than I was? Since she was a city girl, I was sure she would
be wiser. I recall being more than a bit apprehensive, with
butterflies in my stomach. I also couldn't imagine that she
wanted to spend two weeks out of her own magical city. My town was
a place where the mundane such as eating ice cream, seeing
fireworks for the 4thth of July and catching fireflies were the
most memorable highlights of my suburban summers.
