Soon after Linda's death, I was told to go out and take regular walks. I didn't want to take walks-I didn't want to do very much of anything-I had a very tired, worn-out feeling, a desperate sort of feeling of loss, and I really didn't want to do anything very much. It was an effort to do anything. I was having difficulty breathing because of a rapidly beating heart that was bothering me and tying me down so that I couldn't seem to get out and take the exercise that I needed. I found out that I did need it because a heart specialist in Baltimore who examined me said, "The thing for you to do is get out and take walks. Take little trips, and take walks, and do some light exercise such as swimming."

Well, the advice was excellent; however, I didn't follow it right away, until one day I happened to be driving my mother downtown and she happened to have a want ad section of the paper lying on the front seat. When she got out for her errand, I picked it up and started to look at it. As I looked at it, I saw, "Young lady wanted to do some walking for photographer and to assist in learning the business," and I thought, "How wonderful! There is the advice Doctor King gave me. I think, perhaps, I will go in and see this man."

It so happened that the place itself was just about four doors away from where my car was parked. So when my mother came back, I asked her if she would stay in the car a few minutes and I'd run up to see about this photography job. All I had left of Linda to look at was her pictures, and it meant so much to me that I thought to myself, "It's probably the best way for me to help others." After all, you never know what is going to happen, and those pictures were more valuable to me than anything that existed in the world, because there was Linda. I could look at her, and I could feel that she was with me and, yet, of course, she wasn't.

Well, I went up to see this photographer, Mr. Lynch. He was a short man, of very slight stature, and he impressed me as being very assiduous on his job and that he would expect a great deal from anyone who did work for him, and I thought, "This is one way of getting out and getting some exercise. I don't know whether it will be just what I had expected," because he told me that the actual job was to get out and just walk, walk, walk, and get these women with new babies to sign up for free pictures.

Of course, that appealed to me very much because I thought, "After all, every mother with a new baby has begun to feel the attachment and the desire to retain the memory of each day, and the love and the care that we give to our beloved children," and I thought to give these free pictures to these new mothers was a most wonderful thing, exactly what I wanted to do.

I said, "All right. I'll start out in the morning then."

He said, "You start out, and I'll find the section." Then he turned to a map of Baltimore City, and, on that map, he picked the place where Linda had gone to school.

I thought, "That's a funny coincidence, but I'm so glad because I'll be walking in the same area where Linda and I used to walk so much. I'll recall some more of the wonderful memories I have of her."

We decided that I would start off in the morning; he gave me the list of places and told me to go ahead and named the streets, and so forth, where I was to start. It just so happened that it was January 1951, but the weather had suddenly become April weather, or May weather-it was "Springtime in January."

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