Chapter One

1
Never L o s e Fa i t h
It was a cold day in January 1987 when I said goodbye to Sala. I didn’t know it at the time–or perhaps I simply wasn’t ready to accept it–but my friend was dying.

Sala Burton was a Congresswoman from California whom I had known, along with her late husband, Phillip, for many years. She was one of the women I admired most, as well as a close friend.

Everyone respected Sala and knew not to underestimate her. She looked like Mother Earth; she spoke with a Polish accent; she didn’t drive a car. She gave off an intense warmth–if she liked you. She was passionate about what she believed in, but very dispassionate about her
politics.

Sala was like family to me. She loved my children and was especially close to my two oldest daughters, Nancy Corinne and Christine. Nancy Corinne started at Mount Vernon College in Washington shortly after Sala went to Congress, and called us one day to say that she needed
a car.

“Why do you think you should have a car in college?” my husband, Paul, and I asked. With five children, providing each one with a car in college was not in the budget. “I need a car for Sala,” Nancy Corinne said. “I have to drive Sala around.”

So we sent our old Jeep Wrangler from San Francisco. It was quite a sight to see Nancy Corinne driving the dignified Sala Burton around Washington in a car with removable windows.

A couple of years later, Sala became ill with cancer. We thought she could win any battle. But this was one she could not.

And so the time came to say goodbye. Anyone who has ever visited a friend who is dying wil