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        Gramma was born on the Azor’s Island of Terceira. Because “she was only going to be a wife“, Gramma never attended a day of school but taught herself to read and write in five languages. She was thirty years old when my grandfather asked her to marry him, and brought a lug box of sweet potatoes as a gift. She told me no one else wanted to marry her because “she wasn’t pretty, but that was alright, because Eleanor Roosevelt was ugly too, and she was one of the greatest women that had ever lived.”.

        Gramma was a midwife, and teacher to any woman in the area that wanted to learn. She delivered babies, colts and calves, stitched up cuts, and kissed boo boos. She was the smartest woman I have ever met, but believed professional wrestling was real. She went to church every Sunday, smoked cigarettes when Grampa was in bed and had a since of humor that would make even an erotic author blush.

        Gramma couldn’t stand “Rock an’ Slop” but came to my gigs more often than my parents ever did. She would proudly tell anyone that would listen, “Justine’s my granddaughter, and she can really play pretty when she wants.

        And, Gramma was the first member of my family that I told I was bi. She just gave me a hug and said, “you’re just as good as anyone else Honey, you’ll just know twice as much love and twice as much heartache.”

        And as always, Gramma was right.

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      Princess Diana, Mary Magdalene, Anaïs Nin, Calamity Jane, Zorro, Angelina Joli, Cleopatra, Mark Twain, and May West.
      Sappho, John Lennon, Mahatma Gandhi, Peta Wilson, Pauline Reage, Billie Holiday, Eve, and Jean-Luc Picard.
      And, the publisher of my first novel!