HARRIET

HARRIET LEE WALRATH REECE

May 25, 1930 – October 31, 2016

Years ago, let’s say it was 1959, my eldest sister Harriet and her husband Bill went on a trip somewhere, leaving their two children, L.J. and Becky, in the care of our mother – and me – at “the family home.” L.J. was four and Becky was two. I was ten.

Harriet and Kathy, 1951

Harriet had prepared L.J. well, telling him that he was going to stay at Grandma’s house for “nights and nights and nights and nights and nights.” L.J. was totally adjusted to the stay and didn’t pine for his parents, and he would tell anyone that he was staying for “nights and nights and nights and nights and nights.”

When Harriet and Bill arrived to pick up L.J. and Becky, rather than being elated to see them, L.J. burst into tears. “I had more nights,” he wailed. That event entered into family lore, and anytime we were unexpectedly disappointed, we would lament, “I had more nights!”

“I had more nights” – exactly the way I felt when L.J. told me Harriet was gone. KW