My own mother was a remarkable embodiment of both beauty and duty. She was lovely in appearance, and I think early in her life she turned many a head. But her real beauty was her embrace of duty. She worked hard from the time she was a child until, in her final years, she could no longer work. And she did it because, in her view, it was what she was supposed to do.

When I was quite young, we did not have a car, and my mother had to ride to work on a bus. Sometimes she would have to take me to a friend’s house before going to work. I remember one bitterly cold day, standing in ice and snow, waiting for the bus. The wind cut through my clothing like a razor. My mother, who was always attentive to my needs, drew me into her embrace and wrapped her big coat around me. Never was a child so safe and warm as I was that day.