Josephine Ganci was a woman of strength and grace.  As a teacher she inspired, as a mother, she commanded respect.  Her voice could fill the rooms of our Central Park apartment with joy or grief as she sang Puccini's arias.  When we children stepped over the line, that same voice could sear with the heat of Mt. Etna, but her kindness and support knew no bounds.

What would life have been like if she hadn't died so young, in the prime of her life, in 1964?  The turbulent teenage years of my life might have felt a bit more grounded, perhaps, with her ability to practice the "middle way."  She knew how to communicate with those who desperately held on to the past while the world inevitably moved forward.  She gracefully negotiated her feminism and became a full human being despite the tyranny of machismo that existed in our family.  Most importantly, she loved fully, deeply and without compromise or strings attached.  Life was a deep cup of sweet wine, and she drank to her complete satisfaction.

I still miss her and thank her for lessons I continue to learn.