PrologueOctober 24, 1929, the day the bottom dropped out of the stock market and the Great Depression started, was also the day I was born. It never crossed my mind to think I was at fault for that, although considering the way my father, a staunch Republican, would rant during one of President Roosevelt’s fireside chats and glare at me, I could never be certain he felt the same way.
Three years later, my sister Rosalie was born. Mother’s screams could be heard throughout the huge house we lived in—apparently there hadn’t been time for Father to have her taken to the hospital—and I’d hidden in the closet in my room, terrified. However, once the screaming stopped, I crept out of the closet and into the nursery. I thought my sister was the prettiest thing, and I wanted to hold her and cuddl
