My mother probably came up with the idea "if the shoe fits, wear it." In 1959, she purchased a beautiful pair of gray high heels. Only one other person could wear those high heels, and I was not the one. That year came quietly, but then the others came. A mother and six children. How could sixteen people live in a house with three bedrooms and one bath? Who were they? Why were they here? How long would they stay? We had no idea that each of us would be forever changed in 1959, the year known historically as the year of change. Most of us would find ourselves viewing a picture of those high heels long after we saw them in the back of our Ford station wagon as our father backed out of the driveway that fateful day. But those high heels held secrets to a horrible but brave story that now must be told. My father was a man of his word and a man of words. He taught the importance of knowing what to say and meaning what we said. Would words bring us together? Would their leaving destroy any chance of our becoming family?