There are moments of childhood that lodge in our memories and sometimes linger there tenaciously for the rest of our lives. I have many such vivid memories pervaded by the presence of Grandmère. Though photographs exist of me as a small child sitting on my grandfather's knee at the White House or at home in Texas, my earliest and most vivid memories are of holidays spent in unadulterated freedom at Grandmère 's Val-Kill, her beloved home and retreat from a hectic life in upstate New York.

An intense feeling of anticipation marked the beginning of school holidays, when I would fly from my family's home in Fort Worth to New York, and then take the train up the Hudson River Valley to Poughkeepsie, where I was met by my father and stepmother and, of course, Grandmère. Perhaps because I lived so far away with my mother, sister and brother, the times spent with Grandmère were all the more special to me. For a small, ever-inquisitive child, the stream of activities and interesting people in her home made it the most absorbing, wonderful place imaginable.