It was the mid 1950’s and I was attending a parade with my family in uptown Harrisburg. The crowds were several rows deep, but somehow my father and I inched our way up to the front. I remember balloons, music, and panic as I reached for my father’s hand and realized that the man standing next to me was a stranger. I moved away from the crowd, crying and calling for my mother and father. A kind family sitting on their porch came to my rescue, and within a minute or two my parents were rushing toward me and enveloping me in their embrace.
That little hand in mine, the memory flashing before me in seconds, the warm feeling of family love remaining. So in addition to seeing a fabulous collection of art on a sunny Sunday afternoon, I was reminded that memories of family love are always there when you need them.