Stranger;
that's what Barbara translates to. At the thoughtless age of
eleven I decided to educate my grandmother.
"No
dear," she said, "it means beautiful flower."
She
was wrong, so I decided to argue with the woman who had carried the
name far longer than I. Her tenacity was infuriating. At the end of
my argumentative rope I produced the book that proved I was right. I
stabbed at the word 'stranger' for emphasis. She glanced at it
briefly.
"It
must mean beautiful stranger," she said; and she left.
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