It was nearing summer, of 1962, San Fernando Valley, Los Angeles, you moved there, to get a better school. A group of boys, Benny, Yeah-Yeah, Squints, Ham, Kenny, Smalls, Timmy, Tommy, and Bertram were sitting around all on a lunch table, talking about Babe Ruth, and baseball. No one knew this at school, but you were Babe Ruth’s granddaughter. You had his brown eyes, the same fierce power behind them, you walked past them, to get to your friends.