I met Liz just over 20 years ago in Edinburgh, Scotland while we were both doing our junior year abroad at Edinburgh University. We had some mutual friends, and while we both doggedly avoided hanging out with other Americans, we quickly fell into an easy friendship based on a common love of pints, travel, and making fun of Liz’s ridiculous flatmates (one used to time everyone’s showers – on a stopwatch –  then freak out about the hot water consumption).

Liz and I went on two road trips together that year. The first trip was in a tiny, rented car with two other friends, in the middle of a freezing, dark, Scottish January. As we sped away from Edinburgh and headed north toward the most northerly tip of Scotland, we discovered, oh joy, there was a tape deck! Then nearly cried when we realized we only had one tape. The Indigo Girls, no less. I can’t listen to Closer to Fine ever, ever again. We stopped for the first night in John O’ Groats at the tippy top of Scotland, where after a freezing night in the local hostel, took a boat across to one of the Orkney Islands. We hitched to these amazing Neolithic ruins in the middle of field and on the way back to the ferry, got caught in a horrendous frigid downpour – I still thank the kind farmer who picked us up and delivered us, soaked and bedraggled, back to the dock. We drove back south through the Highlands, complete with a spectacular, fog-wrapped view of Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain in the British Isles. We returned to Edinburgh on a Monday evening, happy, a little stinky, and full of stories. When I got back to my flat, my roommate Elsa greeted me and my friend Cat, who was with us on the trip, at the front door. She looked drawn. I sort of brushed it off, thinking she had a few late nights at the pub. She sat patiently while Cat and I chatted about our weekend. Then she took a deep breath, looked at us and said, “Sue’s dad killed himself over the weekend.” Sue was our other flatmate, a sweetheart from Dorset who grew up on a sheep farm and had spent the year before college working in Mother Theresa’s orphanage in Calcutta. I struggled to digest the news, Cat ran into the bathroom, and after sobbing for a good 10 minutes, I got mad. Mad at the thought that a parent would do that to their family, mad that I hadn’t been home that weekend to help Sue when she got the news. And after those thoughts swirled and settled down, I remember thinking how unfair it was to Liz. Her parents didn’t have the option of making that choice. I’m still mad about it.

Our second road trip was during the first week of our incredible four-week-long spring vacation. Liz and I met up in London at her mom’s friend Janey’s house in Kensington. What a beautiful, homey place, smack in the middle of town. I twice soaked in this huge white clawfoot tub, and for years after that visit, bought the Crabtree and Evelyn coconut oil shampoo Liz had perched on the edge of that tub. We headed west from London in Janey’s car. We stopped for gas. We drove a little more. We stopped for gas. We drove a little more. WE STOPPED FOR GAS. On and on this went, both of us panicking we were going to run out of money before we’d even eaten anything or paid for a hostel, Liz pipes up, “What’s that thing?” pointing at the choke. It was pulled all the way out. We laughed til it hurt. After the choke fiasco, and settling into a good rhythm heading west toward Bath and Cornwall, Liz told me the story of her family. She was driving at this point(thank God, I think I would have taken down a few fences and sheep had I been behind the wheel), and I’ll always remember her profile as she talked. She was so calm, so solid, and so enrapturing. She talked without interruption, I think, for at least an hour. I sat with my legs crossed, often silently crying, and looking at her with a sense of awe. How did she get through that? How is she dealing with it now? How does she go on? This was only about five years after her mom died…and here she was, strong, graceful, and so articulate about the most painful things any child could experience.  I’ve always adored Liz, and now after reading the book, meeting her kick-ass, wonderful siblings, I adore her that much more.

“I grew up loving Soap Operas and first became aware of Ann Williams when she was on The Doctors. I wrote her a fan letter in the late 60’s and she sent me a reply along with a beautiful photo of her with a horse. I asked Ann if I could start a fan club for her and that’s where it all began.”

“Neither one of us knew anything about clubs so we learned together. Ann was always so giving to her fans and always treated me like a friend. Fan clubs were just beginning to get big about that time and Ann was always so good about leaving her family for a day to attend conventions and she was always one of the most popular. Ann always invited my friends, Delores Torrence & Diann Clark, and myself to her house when we were in town. I have so many fond memories of that grey house. I remember swimming with the three older kids in the pool mentioned in the book. I also enjoyed hearing what you had to say about Morgan Fairchild. My mom and I were at the studio on Morgan’s first day of taping. I have beautiful photos & memories of that trip.
My parents and I drove to Detriot when Ann was in “Applause” on their pre-Broadway try-outs. Then I saw it again on Broadway. Diann, Delores and I also went to Washington DC to see Ann in “The Headhunters.”
She loved her family more than anything.
When she was home she was just mommy and not the big soap star she was. I remember hearing about Bob’s death. I was in NYC and called the house and Aunt Eve told me what had happened. Ann was in the hospital at the time and I was so shocked when I heard about her cancer. I remember her telling me how lucky she was that they got it all.
She said she had to be there for her chldren. It is so hard to see Ann in the photos when she was very ill. I want to remember her as the beautiful and vibrant person she was.
I was so surprised and happy when Delores called and told me about this book. It has brought back so many wonderful memories. So many times throughout the years I had wondered what had happened to you all. Ann always said Liz was the actress and Amanda was the vet. It was heartbreaking to hear everything you have all been through but your mom and dad would be very proud of what you have all accomplished in your lives.”

“I have many great memories of our friendship in high school … in particular I remember spending a day at your house (your beautiful pale grey-blue house with the matching grey-blue Mercedes) when we went blueberry picking and made pies all by ourselves!  And, of course, I recall our summer in Angers, going to Paris on Bastille Day, organizing and hosting a party for our friend Lisa’s birthday and breaking the washing machine belonging to the old woman we lived with.  That summer when your mom was so sick … I have a photo album of you smiling like the rest of us carefree high school students, and a scrap book full of notes you wrote me, each ending in ‘Love, Liz’ with a huge smiley face.  You really did put on a happy face, perhaps better than any actress could have.”

“I remember how you were always incredibly stylish, and how I always copied your haircuts and clothes, though you always pulled them off better than I.  I, too, had sideways hair my junior year and actually went off to college with the haircut with very short hair on top (like bangs sticking straight up).  I remember Amanda as the older sister not to be messed with, Danny as a really cute fun younger brother and Diana as just an adorable little girl; no one else had a little sister that little.  I could go on and on, but truly remember you as an incredibly nice person, a good friend, one who was much more ‘popular’ than I, but always nice to me, and inclusive of me.

I must say I felt I knew so much going into reading the book that I wasn’t sure what would surprise me.  My husband asked me if I thought I’d be in the book, and didn’t think I would be in it per se; but I was clearly in it in that I was there, at that time, and many of the same events you wrote of; it amazed me how the real names of all of the characters came floating back to me, and how I felt compelled to write them in the margins.  It is almost like the book was half “1980s/Fox Lane flashbacks” and half the real story that so few people knew.  I’d been at some of the parties, all of the proms, and knew most of the people and places described.

However, what surprised me the most was the stark difference between the level of detail I knew of some aspects of your life and what I didn’t know about your home life.  I very clearly remember you telling me you lost your virginity, and that you wished you hadn’t.  I so clearly remember the Guess paisley jeans and Guess overalls you mention in the book, yet I never suspected your clothes were shoplifted.  Looking back, it makes perfect sense, and I suppose that’s why they say hindsight is 20/20.  At the time, you were just beautiful and sophisticated; I always thought your mom’s NY friends bought you your clothes.  And I didn’t know of any of your feelings that led to your shoplifting, how you felt the need to put up a front of being a normal teenager.  What I really didn’t know was what happened to your siblings after your mom died, and what happened in the years that followed.  I thought that the Chamberlains adopted Diana, and that Danny was adopted by the Hayes, end of story.  Wrong I was, obviously.

You passed along all of your jobs to me, when you could no longer do them, I think because your mom got too sick.  I remember babysitting for the Chamberlains, and working at their dinner parties too.  For one party in particular, I hired a friend to help, and together we did all the cooking, serving and cleaning up.  I remember their daughter as having allergies, and I remember being treated like the hired help I was.  While I have vivid memories of their home, I only remember them vaguely.

I took your job at the Reginald’s after you could no longer do it, though they paid me $5.00 an hour (not the $7.00 they paid you!) to cook and clean for them for eight hours every Sunday.  I remember Mrs. Reginald showing me the number tattooed on her arm from her time at Auschwitz, and I remember being asked to pick blueberries and make a blueberry pie for them.  They too were wealthy yet warm and friendly, and were patient and kind towards me.

I also took your job at Indigo, a clothing boutique in Chappaqua, an even fancier town than Bedford. The hardest part for me was that they wanted me to buy their clothes to wear to work, and I thought it was all so incredibly expensive that I bought two tops from the sale rack and wore them to work the whole summer after graduation.  You must have given me that job when you left for Norway…?

While I too grew up in Bedford, I grew up on the other side of town, and truly believe we had a totally different experience.  I lived in a development of 1960s colonials with neighborhood events like summer evening games of spud and Christmas caroling.  While I spent many summer days at the Bedford Golf & Tennis Club with friends, my family did not belong; we didn’t get in because we were ‘not from the horsey side of town.’ For some reason, this confused me, as our best friends, who were also neighbors, were members.  Looking back, though, I realize that the mom grew up in Bedford (in the horsey section) and that likely explains their membership.

After reading the recent article in Bedford’s local paper, I do, in an odd way, feel badly for Bedford (’Dreadford!’).  I can’t imagine the same thing happening to my sister and I if my parents had died; many names of families come to mind that I truly do think would have taken us in.  But I wonder if that closeness of community I felt growing up was simply a function of my neighborhood, my parents or even just their friends in particular.  I wonder if, on the other, ‘horsey’ side of town, when you can’t see the houses from the streets and you can’t see the houses from each other, if close community relationships suffer.  But I suppose more pontificating on why what happened did is pointless.

Reading your book inspired me to go back through all of my old photo albums.  I have pictures of you smiling on the Middle School field hockey team, smiling on the dock in Chautauqua, smiling on the beach in Florida, smiling at the prom parties, always smiling.  I remember my mom taking a friend and I to Florida to stay with my aunt, and you, Rita and Amy Karpel traveled alone and stayed in a motel down the beach by yourselves…no adults…for spring break.  It seemed so amazing at the time, that your mom would let you go alone on spring break in high school.  But the reality was that she clearly couldn’t take you on spring break, so you took yourself. We were clearly in different groups in high school; you were more popular, of course, but we were both smart so were in lots of classes together, and had lots in common.  But more than that, you were always focused outwardly, on your friends and their feelings, and making them feel worthy and welcomed by you, which must be why everyone wanted to be friends with you.  What an amazing feat for any teenager, much less one whose only parent was dying.  In retrospect, I’m just amazed at what I both knew, and at the same time, what I didn’t…I really didn’t know, or perhaps understand, how truly unsettled things were for you at home during high school, and I just hope that I, or people like me, didn’t make you feel worse than you already did.

I remember being in your new house the fall after our summer in France, and seeing your mom, very sick. I suppose you must remember the quote under your senior photo in the yearbook, which reads, “You can close your eyes to reality but not to memories.”  While the rest of the class put silly quotes and initials under their photos, yours was truly representative of that time in your life.  But did it sink in with any of us, at the time?  I don’t think so, I guess because you hid it all so well.

My husband and I have three children now, and I’ve found that the topic of choosing a guardian for your children is widely discussed.  It is one of those playgroup issues, like potty training, that everyone talks about when you’re a new parent.  It is so hard to believe there was no such plan for you, and the pressure you must have felt to make those decisions that your parents should have made is unimaginable.  Even the most mature 16 year-old, as you were, shouldn’t have to do that.  I had always wondered if any of you would someday have children of your own.  Other friends of mind who lost their mothers young have all remained childless by choice.  And while parenthood is not for everyone, seeing Diana holding a baby on the Good Morning America segment made me feel a strange sense of relief.

As a parent, I feel so much sympathy now for what you must have gone through; to read in the book that Diana’s ‘new mom’ told her she was ugly is truly heart breaking, and I can’t bear the thought of our kids going through anything like you did.  But I do also feel sympathy, to some degree, for the Chamberlains and the Hayes.  As a mom, I now realize how important consistency, routine and traditions are for kids, and how adding new children into a family, even biologically, or even temporarily for a weekend, can truly disrupt things.  Adding a new child to an established family, even an older child like Danny or Diana, would be challenging under the best of circumstances.  I’m not saying those families couldn’t have done better, but maybe in some ways they just couldn’t.  Maybe trying to take care of Danny and Diana, to help them heal from what they’d been through, was just more than they could handle.

I lost a good friend to cancer two years ago.  She, like your mom, had four children, and knew she was dying.  And though she left behind a loving husband, she carefully selected a ’second Mommy’ for each of her four children, someone who could be a mom for all those times in your life when you need a mom.  She was envisioning things like the first day of Kindergarten, getting your period, buying a prom dress.  I often thought of you, and how things weren’t so thought out, and how they should have been.”

“I began being a big fan of your mother’s during her Dr. Maggie Fielding days in the Sixties. I followed her career and life from then on, and was beyond thrilled the first time I met her in ‘real life.’”

“During the Seventies, I had wonderful opportunities to visit her several times. Her fan club president, Sue Corbett, was from Ohio. Along with my local friend, Diann Clark, Sue and I would meet in NYC about once a year. During that time, there were lots of soap opera clubs and various events for fan clubs. Sue, Diann and I also went to Ann in the play ‘The Headhunters’ in Washington, D.C., and ‘Applause’ at An Evening Dinner Theater.

Ann invited us out to visit her several times. I remember the gray house well. Ann was a lovely, lovely lady, both inside and out. She treated us as ‘friends’ and not just fans. Several times she made arrangements for the three of us to visit her on the set of  ‘Search For Tomorrow.’ After our visits, we would write articles for the fan club journal, ‘Ann & Company.’

I have photo albums galore of those years.  I have glamorous photos of her and also photos she called ‘Mommy photos.’ They are beautiful and mean so much to me. The article you mentioned in the book about Amanda’s birth and ‘the baby that took Ann Williams off TV?’ I still have that as well. I never met your dad, but he was very handsome! And I know your mom loved him very much. Her entire family meant the world to her.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for writing the book. It made me laugh and it made me cry. I knew that Ann passed away with cancer, but I didn’t know how many times she faced it or how heart-wrenching the entire story was. I cried and cried when reading about it.

I made a scrapbook that I treasure.  Ann signed it for me,

To Delores, As Always, my special friend, onward and upward!

Ann Williams (with a smiley face).”

“Could I have really said, ‘Happy Birthday, Liz! To the girl who has everything!’ when I handed her the rabbit cage?

Reading the book, with all the pain, suffering and loss, my comment seems so incredibly insensitive and downright clueless.  Of course, my first reaction to this quote was to get defensive: Liz must have remembered wrong.  But, then I allowed myself to go back to my freshman year of college, sharing a 10’ x 15’ dorm room with Liz, and my comment almost seems to make sense.”

“Except for that first night when she told me her story — and even then, she didn’t cry — Liz never brought up the fact that she had no parents.  She never talked about missing them or lamented over the simple inconvenience of not having an unconditional crash pad during summer vacation.  The only day I remember her being quietly reflective was on the anniversary of her mother’s death in December.

To say that Liz was popular is a wild understatement. She was and is that rare mix of beautiful, smart, kind, funny, and dangerously generous.  Other people’s problems always became her own, as she would seek them out to help, console, or lend her favorite pair of jeans. The one thing that would always drive me crazy about Liz was when we went grocery shopping.  She knew everyone and would chat with each one at length in every aisle, taking us over an hour to get out of the store.  Always upbeat, Liz would listen to everyone’s problems and showed real compassion for whatever the issue, big or small.  Very few people knew that she had no parents, as she rarely shared even a sad thought.

And yes, we did get Liz a rabbit for her birthday. I remember discussing it beforehand with our roommates Birgithe and Ariane, whose birthday was several months earlier than Liz’s.  We had given Ariane a lame gift of a battery-powered back massager that looked like a very large dildo. We wanted to liven things up! (Literally.) If nothing else, we thought the rabbit would be good for laughs. To us, it was a fun, spontaneous gesture that reflected how we wanted to live our college years.  But we had parents who could take in a rabbit every summer (and pick up any other loose ends that we might have carelessly tossed aside).  This was a support system that we took for granted every day and never did Liz preach us to do otherwise.  With her sunny, let-me-help-you disposition, Liz distracted us from the fact that she had no such support. Still, never in a million years did we imagine that Harold would poop everywhere, pee strategically on our bed pillows, and bite everyone who tried to pet him.

Looking back now, and reading this book, I see what a pillar Amanda was even then… sure, she’s a toughie on the outside, but she never hesitated taking in Liz’s ornery rabbit who went on to live for seven long years!”

“Montgomery and I had just bought a house around the corner from the Welches in Bedford in 1981 and someone told Ann that I rode horses. She was only 4 years younger than my mom, so I was touched when she invited me to go trail riding with her one day.  I told her I couldn’t because Jonah was only 8 months old at the time.  She said, ‘that’s fine, Lizzie will babysit.’

I was 25 and had never left Jonah with anyone but my mother before, so it was hard to hand him over to Liz, who was then 13.  When I came back from our ride, she was feeding him French Bread pizza!  I was horrified!  He had only ever eaten organic food that I had prepared myself.”“That Christmas, Ann invited Montgomery and me to a Christmas party at their house and I remember thinking, ‘this is what to be when I grow up!’   The Welches really seemed like the perfect family–Ann was so sweet, loving and beautiful.  And Bob was this warm, happy guy—totally charming and approachable.  The grown-ups gathered around the piano to sing Christmas carols as all these cute kids ran around having fun. It was picture perfect.  That was only time I ever met Bob–he died
the following spring.

The following year, Liz started babysitting for us.  I was 27 when I had Addison, and I remember we dropped Jonah off at Diana’s 5th birthday party at the gray house on the way to the hospital to give
birth to Addison.  Liz never talked much about what was happening at home, but everyone in Bedford seemed to know about the Welches.  When Ann got sick, we all thought she was going to get better. But then when they family moved into the new house, Ann got really sick. Around that same time, I had heard that Liz could not play volleyball her junior year because she had to come home afterschool to take care of Diana.  I thought that was terrible—and so I just started showing up at the Welches house and picking up Diana to take her back home with me, to give Liz a break.    And then I fell totally in love with Diana.  She was adorable—really spunky and funny.  I would go places with my kids and Diana and people would think Diana was mine, because I had red hair too.

Ann managed to get everyone into the house, though it was never finished.  There was no landscaping whatsoever—dirt instead of a lawn. I knew this landscaper and asked him if I could get people to donate money for plantings, would he install them for free.  He agreed, and we even got the local paper to run a story about it.  I started calling around and so many people chipped in—people that had worked for your dad, people who had heard of your mom.  I remember calling one person, a big name at the Bedford Golf and Tennis Club thinking she’d make a large donation. Instead, she said, ‘I’m so sick of the Welches and their problems!’  I was so appalled!  I hung up trembling. I still managed to raise $1500, which bought a lot of plants and sod–it was instant landscaping in one afternoon.

While I was busy helping around the house, I never once had a conversation with Ann about her kids.  Honestly, I assumed someone else was figuring things out. I was just a neighbor who wanted to help
out.  The summer before Ann died, Aunty Eve was often at the house, but she did not drive and so I would stop by to see if they needed groceries, etc.  I was not involved with Ann—I don’t even remember going back to her room where she spent most of her time. I found her illness terrifying, truthfully, so I stayed away.  I did not know how far along her cancer was.  Nancy Chamberlain was much more involved with Ann than I was.

I kept waiting for someone to show up and take all four kids in, and watched as Ann grew weaker and more ill.   When it was clear that no one was going to step up, I offered to take either Liz or Diana. I
grew up in a house where that kind of thing would happen—people would show up needing a place to stay and my mother was always so open. To me it seemed kind of normal.  Still, I was only 30 at the time.  Jonah was 4 and Addison was 2.  I assumed that Diana was going to live with us, so when Liz told me that Diana was moving in with the Chamberlains, I was stunned.    I did not understand why, and did not ask.  The Welches had enough to worry about.

I never once spoke with Ann about Liz moving in with me.  And we never discussed her dying, either.   There was an ethereal part of Ann—she never seemed to deal with reality. As a mother, I can understand.  I really do think it was just too painful.  It meant leaving her children behind, which was more than she could bear.  If she admitted it, she was giving up.    Ann’s lawyer called me one day in late November to come to the house and sign the guardianship papers.  That was awful.  Ann was so ill, she could barely hold the pen.

About a week before Ann died, I remember taking Liz to the funeral home to pick out Ann’s coffin.  I had never done anything like that. It was totally surreal. And then the funeral director took us into a
room filled with all these coffins and I was totally freaked out.  Liz was only 16 and yet she was holding it together.  I was trying to follow her lead.  I remember she pointed to a coffin and said, ‘that’s the one we had for Dad.’

I also remember that phone call, when Nancy screamed at Liz.  I was in London with Montgomery and called home to check in on everyone.  We had a nanny living with us then, and Christopher answered the phone. I told him to get Liz, and when she picked up, she burst into tears. Nancy was a good friend of mine in those days, so I was stunned when Liz told me what happened.  After we hung up, Montgomery called Nancy and went off on her.  He was furious, and frankly that was the end of
our relationship with the Chamberlains.

When Liz told me she was going to Paris, I was concerned. But in my heart of hearts I knew she would make good decisions. I had made some alternative choices in my life and came from a family that supported that.  I did not have this notion that there is only one path that people can take. I figured she would be fine.  But I also felt helpless.

So much has happened since those days, and as hard as they were, I can say this:  you don’t get to pick your family.  You are born into it, and then you give birth and the cycle continues.  I got to pick the
Welches.

Amanda is my hero, somehow morphing from an angry, rebellious teenager into an amazing woman who, with no preparation did an incredible job of bringing up Diana and being the glue keeping everyone together.  Danny brings joy wherever he goes-making us all laugh so much it hurts.
Diana makes me realize that nothing is impossible, and she is as spunky and funny as she ever was.  And Liz…. I would take a bullet for her, then and now.

I wish I could have taken all four of them in, and reading their book makes me wish that all the more. I can say this, however:  Having the Welches in my life is the best thing that has happened to me.”

“Growing up, I had three best friends all of whom moved away, Diana being one of them.  The only difference was that I found out she had already moved just a few weeks before school started back up and I, of course, was devastated. I had no idea why she had moved. All I knew is that we both wore our ‘Best Friends’ necklaces and I now didn’t have the other part of the necklace to make it complete.”

“I  attended Rippowam Cisqua with Diana and we had the best time.  I was always a little bit of a trouble maker and Diana had no problem playing along – although she was a lot slicker then me. I always ended up getting in trouble.

My memories of Mrs. Chamberlain are that she was uptight and rigid and that her daughters were always dressed like victorian dolls. I do remember going over to the Chambermlain’s for playdates with Diana — she always seemed so much more reserved at their house then she ever did at school.

In fact, Diana was completely the opposite at school: Fun and outgoing, she always seemed so happy.  She brought so much energy into a room.  She seemed to have such a strong sense of self; I remember being jealous of that.  She never seemed to let anyone bother her.  If the boys in our class were mean she seemed to brush it off while I would be in the bathroom crying.  I really just remember looking up to Diana and wanting to have that confidence, stength, and overall joy that she seemed to have.

My favorite memory with Diana is when a bunch of girls from our class went up to my parents’ house in Stratton, Vermont.  We pretended that we were in the movie Stand By Me and set out on an adventure down the dirt road to a ‘haunted house.’ On the way back up to my house we hadour arms around each other and we sang the lyrics to “Stand by Me.”  I just re-read those lyrics online it sent chills up my spine…they seem so fitting to what she was going through at the time. Never in a million years would I have known that she was suffering so much.  I had no idea what Diana had been through with her parents up until a few days ago and I was shocked.  I guess Diana was an amazing actress, just like her mom.”

“This is to Amanda.

Friends told me about your appearance on “Good Morning America” and I watched the segment last night on the internet. I was thrilled that you, Liz, Danny, and Diana had collaborated on a book (especially the positive aspects). I then found a link to your web site.”

“I read each chapter posted there. I was greatly hurt Amanda, in the way you spoke of John. While I do agree with you that John was frugel in many respects, I think you need to know that his annual salary at the time of Bob’s death was little more than $25,000 dollars.

John, at the behest of your dad, took courses to be able to sell shares in your dad’s oil company. The $25,000 that he invested, was not his money. It was his boss’s money at the Museum of Science and History. So, just as Ann was deluged with calls, so was John. It was implied to John that he might lose his new job at the museum if he did get the investor’s money back. You make it sound like he robbed Ann.

Also, in regard to the Grand Canyon. Your family made that trip with John before I came into his life. However, he remembered it as something special. And the steak dinner at the bottom of the canyon? John and I took groups of 20 people there every other year till his death in 1999. Not one person complained as you have about the food. I think it might have been your filet mignon upbringing that colored your perspective. John only had kind words for you and all of Ann’s kids. I am glad to know that you at least did him the service of referring to him as “Uncle Buzz.” I am sorry you had such hatred for him. Everyone sees things the way they want to see them, Amanda.”

“Dear Danny, Amanda, Liz and Diana,

I only found out about your book a few days ago and it was heartbreaking, but I hope and think that you are all in a better place now. Brad and Billy knew about the book and were concerned that there might be things in it which would upset us so we were never told about it. You are right that none of our memories are or can be the same. There are some things I thought it would be helpful for you to hear and, for sure, I am feeling defensive.”

“The only time I met your Mom was when she came to our house trying to find Danny. I don’t know why that was and didn’t ask, though I suggested a few people she might contact. You are right; she was beautiful. I had seen her in commercials and on a soap and I adored her as Dr. Maggie. When she came that day she had a scarf wrapped around her head and was pale but it didn’t take away from her beauty. There was pain and panic in her eyes. I wish I had asked her to come in and talk but I knew she had other things on her mind. I had been told she was unwell and that your Dad had died and we felt so sorry for all of you.

Danny, we really didn’t know you well. I know you and Brad had mutual friends and I remember him telling us about a great time he had playing army at your house. I believe it was the fire cracker incident that brought the police and some of you went down a manhole to hide from them.

When your Mom died, Brad asked us to bring him to the funeral home. We didn’t know anyone there except for some of your friends. Danny, shortly after the funeral Brad heard that your guardian had backed out and you had no one to stay with. Mr. Hayes and I talked it over and felt we could try to help out. We always had a house full of kids anyway.

My father had died when I was in my senior year at Fox Lane. My sisters were five and nine at the time and we were all fearful of what would happen if our mother died. I think this is why I had such empathy. I believe I called Mrs. Stewart or Mrs. Chamberlain and was given the name of an attorney in Bedford Hills. She was handling your mother’s affairs. This is how you came to our house over the Christmas holiday. Eve and Harry visited and seemed happy with the situation. The Bedford Golf and Tennis set found us to be “adorable.” They called us the Walton’s. I’m not sure they meant it as a  compliment but we could have been called worse.

Danny, after the school vacation and only a few days after moving in with us it was time for you to return to TP. We drove you there and it was terrible to leave you. I can’t recall exactly how long afterwards, probably just a few weeks later, we received a call from the headmaster and were told that you had run away from school. He suspected you had taken a train and were heading for Mt. Kisco. He was right. We really didn’t know what to do. We had told you that you were now a part of our family but you were the only one not living at home. We were afraid you would continue to run away from TP and felt that with all you had already lost it would be better for you to go back to Fox Lane – to be with friends and near your sisters. We had every hope that this would work out. We also pursued getting psychiatric help to better understand how to deal with the situation. We were certainly not anti private schools. Mr. Hayes had graduated from one in Massachusettts.

We did get together with all of you and the Stewarts and Chamberlains. I recall Mrs. Chamberlain calling us one night. You had all gone to pick up Diana and bring her out for ice cream. It was a school night and you were asked to have her back by 8. She wasn’t returned until 10 or 11 because you brought her to a party. I really don’t recall much other contact with the other families. However, is it really possible that everyone who attempted to help all of you had come straight out of a Dickens novel? As badly as I feel for all of you I also feel very badly for the Chamberlains. I personally feel that alot of what was written about them needs to be taken with a grain of salt.

Now about us. I was described as a red-faced, screaming bitch and Mr. Hayes was the gentle giant who didn’t have a mind of his own. If this were the case why so many kids hanging out at our house. We always had shoes of all sizes lined up in the kitchen and extra plates on the table. Mr. Hayes would avoid confrontation at all costs. This is probably due to his childhood which I am not getting into. It was his nature to sit back and let me worry about the “small stuff” while he would take care of the “big stuff”. He was and still is the rock of our family. He loved sports, Mount Kisco and all the kids he came into contact with. After reading the book he also better understands the horror of all you went through but on our behalf he also added that
“no good deed goes unpunished.”

Danny, we were not holy rollers who prayed all the time. Far from it. We only went to church for weddings, funerals and Christmas Eve. If I ever prayed I am sure it was only to hope that you, Brad and Billy would hurry up and grow up! Brad and Billy had been baptized and you and Brad were of age to be confirmed into the Episcopal church. Though we didn’t go to church we thought we should give you both this opportunity to learn and decide for yourselves if you wanted religion in your lives. I dropped you off at St. Mark’s. The instructer told all of you to leave if you weren’t prepared to accept God in your lives. Needless to say you both left and walked home. It was actually a relief for us because we didn’t want to go to church either. End of story.
Danny, I don’t know if you were testing me or it was just your nature but the story you tell of Clockwork Orange and my reaction when you called me in just as the rape scene started is a perfect example of our problems. I know you resented our rules and me but the rules weren’t unreasonable and actually very typical. We expected all three of you to go to school, play sports, eat dinner as a family and get homework done. There was always time for tv, playing outside, music and reading. School nights were for staying home and weekends were for going out. Nothing unusual there.

One of our obligations was to see that you went to school and what brought everything to a head was when I started getting calls from Fox Lane while I was at work. I was being told that you were not in school. We discovered that Amanda and Karen were arranging auditions for you in NYC without our knowledge or consent though we were now your legal guardians. We asked that they stop doing this but it continued. The conversation you heard me have with Amanda was after yet another day of skipping school to go to an audition. I told her it could only work out for all of us if she abided by our rules and going to school was one of them. If she didn’t agree with this and felt she or Karen knew better how to raise you than both of them could take over. You have to remember that Brad and Billy were watching all of this and felt that whatever you were allowed to do, they should be
allowed to do, too.

In the book you mention that we were interfering with your livlihood. At fourteen you didn’t need a livelihood. However, after reading the book I can understand why you were so frantic to earn money even though it was no longer necessary. You remember me screaming all the time but I remember me crying all the time.

It is ironic that we didn’t know a book was being published because we just went through photos a month ago and did up separate albums for Brad and Billy. With Brad’s 20th high school reunion coming up we thought he would want to share some of the pictures with friends. Lots of them have been posted on Face Book. You looked so happy yet you were obviously, and with good reason, in a great deal of pain.

Amanda, it was touching to read how hard you tried to be the mother and hold the family together. I had never thought about it and it was an eye opener. You used the family china and recipes and furniture and did the best you could to bring normalcy to your lives. So difficult to read about you replicating family holidays with very important members missing. Liz, I was amazed at how you were a peace maker and always bringing gifts and love to those around you. Diana, I know it must have been hardest of all for you but, if it is any help, please remember that we all have issues with our parents and grow up with some resentment and anger. Certainly not as difficult as it was for you but issues nonetheless.

Congratulations on your book. It is absolutely one of the best I have ever read and I’m sure it was catharic for all of you. We wish you the best and are happy that you are so close to one another and a united family again. If you want to get in touch please ask Brad or Billy for our phone number or email address. I wish we had had an opportunity to talk before the book was published.”

“Liz and I went to Fox Lane together and were never really that close but Liz’s best friend Rita was a good friend of mine and she was also dating my best friend. Just as Liz and her siblings explain that they have different memories of past events I also remember the evening of the prom night slightly differently.”

“Leading up to the prom I was told (I think by Rita) that Liz wanted to go with me and that I should ask her to go to the prom. I clearly remember walking past Liz in K wing and we stopped to talk and there was this awkward moment where I felt she was waiting for me to ask her. The truth (in retrospect after reading the book) was that Liz’s life had become an awkward moment so she had learned to deal with tough situations so this was nothing. Liz always seemed to be more mature than the rest of us and given my boyish reluctance to pop the question Liz asked if I was going to the prom helping break the ice at which point we agreed to go together. I remember the transaction being all business and I could sense that the only reason Liz wanted to go with me was because I fit some profile that was suitable to her, no real feelings were involved. I knew Liz’s mother was sick, but when I asked questions I never really got any answers so I left it alone. I didn’t go to Liz’s house to pick her up for the prom as that felt off limits to me. When they announced that we were prom king and queen it was another awkward moment – as Liz and I were more business partners in this venture and never expected to be outed in such grand fashion. However it is a great memory and my friends and especially my wife still to this day like to tease me of my king status. I never knew how I intersected such an interesting and amazing story the Welch family was weaving at the time, I am glad to be part of it.”