The assassination of JFK was my first memory. It was November 1963 and I was three years old. I remember sitting cross legged, on the carpet, in front of a black and white television watching as the President was shot over and over again. Of course I did not know
- Knowing your place: the boundaries around relationships in pre-Revolutionary Russia
- Searching for an April birth month and finding more questions
- Ella – elegant, enchanting and somewhat elusive – was she also evasive?
- What’s in a Name? Was I named in memory of the Empress?
- The Tsar is buried… the Emperor is no more…