My Dad called me “happy Sash,” which was ironic because I was never a happy kid. I was a worried kid, just like I’m a worried adult. My dad would say it often, “she’s a Happy Sash.” I think he wanted me to be happy because then maybe he wouldn’t worry. He was a worrier too.

There aren’t many pictures of me as a baby, but here’s one. That’s me in the middle. As you can see, not exactly smiling.

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