During the last war, my parents befriended two American soldiers, brothers from Idaho. We became very fond of them and were devastated when the younger one lost his life in the fierce fighting in New Guinea. I wrote to his mother until she died and vowed to visit the family one day. This I did in 1991, taking with me an enamelled plaque (made by me) titled Stained Glass Window, in memory of the young soldier who had died. I presented it to his ageing sister, who seemed to cherish it, while the giving gave me a sense of fulfilment somehow. After many years we lost touch, as you do. A few weeks ago, I received an e-mail from a woman in New York State who had purchased the plaque from a gallery in Idaho Falls. She absolutely loved it and had contacted me from the inscription on the back, put there by me all those years ago. She wanted to know the history of the plaque. So I told her. I can only presume that the sister left the enamelled painting to her only child, who, now being in his eighties, has perhaps passed on himself, his estate being administered by those to whom the plaque perhaps meant little. The local gallery was given the task of realising on this once precious item. It had been well looked after and fetched a tidy sum. My pleasure lies in knowing it is still loved.