My mother. She never graduated from high school, was abused by my father, raised my sister and I alone. When a big factory opened in Illinois, she was the 1st woman hired, the first woman on the weld line, the first woman supervisor. She worked for cancer research, had cancer twice and beat it, she lived through the deaths of two of my kids, my sister, her sisters and mother. She was very smart, a lifetime learner, brave, strong, dignified and independent. I told her she was a feminist, and she laughed, but, she was.

My mother. She is the epitome of strength. She suffered through abuse her entire life until her late 20s. She has saved hundreds of lives as a paramedic and a domestic abuse advocate, she perpetually advocates and stands up in politics working hard to make good changes

She lost a leg but she has never lost her power.

My maternal grandmother. Hands down.

Carl Sandburg. He came to our house when I was little and gave us a set of his biographies of Abraham Lincoln....My father knew him from when years before they lived in the same boarding house in Chicago...Swedes often call their children by their middle names, so the writer whose name was Wilhelm Carl Sandburg was called Carl and my dad whose name was Carl Wilhelm Sandberg was called Will....They met in the hallway and sorted out their mail and were friends for years and years and years.

They're dead.
Two guys that ran a therapeutic community I was placed in from 16 to 19.
Changed my life and I'm forever indebted to them for it.