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It’s hard to believe there was a time when Dora wasn’t part of our family. She has been, at different periods, the organizer, the analyst, the true-blue friend, and the earth mother of all of us, but especially of Nick, who was the eldest son but also, by 1978, when Dora came into our lives, the black sheep of the family. Against my father’s wishes, Nick had traveled to India, staying there for months, forsaking school and family ties for the life of a hippie abroad.[[wysiwyg_imageupload:81:height=225,width=300]]When Nick returned, he wandered out to San Francisco, and somewhere along the way met Dora, who eventually gave birth to their first daughter, Evita. That was a turning point for Nick, who returned to school and settled down – more or less – to the sometimes unorthodox life of a California husband and lawyer for the poor and indigent.
Becoming a lawyer was credited to Dora, at least by my mother, who, after an unpleasantly hostile period that lasted many years, came around to see that Dora was good for Nick and good for all of us. In the end, we’ve all come to count on her for wisdom, wit, and a wry sense of humor. To survive the Soters, I think, you need to have all three.
August 14, 2010