One of the unexpected joys of publishing Chanel has been the unearthing of photographs from friends and distant relatives.  (This one is from a series taken by an old Minneapolis friend one our last summers with our Dad.)  As you can imagine after reading the book, not very many pictures or keepsakes made it through with us — things were lost in storage, destroyed by our mother or simply left or abandoned by us as we tried to run faster and faster from our past through a long series of houses, rooms and apartments.