By Tricia Lunt, English Faculty.
My sister Barbara and I have some things in common, but for the most part, we are quite different. She is quiet and shy, which I am only rarely. She is humble and self-effacing, which I generally am not. She is petite, which I definitely am not. Nevertheless, she is my big sister, and she has been kind and loving to me throughout my entire life. Her literary equivalent the angelic Jane Bennet; I recognized Barbara instantly: always loving, always giving, always accepting. It occurs to me now she and I have never had an argument. This remarkable fact is due entirely to her sweetness. Happily, Barbara and I were uncommonly close during my adolescence. She is, rather unbelievably, 10 years older than me. She was living at home after college, working and eventually enrolling in graduate school while I was in high school. We had breakfast together nearly every morning: raisin bran and orange slices. We worked together, too. She managed a Greek Restaurant where I worked weekends in the kitchen as a “salad girl.” At the restaurant, she met the man who would 
become her husband. Barbara married Dana the same spring that I graduated high school. All of the “Lunt girls” were bridesmaids in the wedding. She was delighted to be getting married “at last,” at 27 (when we all still thought 27 was old). Possibly the most perfect memory of my sweet sister Barbara is the sight of her dancing at her own wedding. She was in the middle of an enormous circle of friends and family, smiling—beaming—and swirling and swaying in uncharacteristic delight, celebrating her happiness and her beauty while dancing to Roy Orbison’s “Pretty Woman.”
We all learned a phrase from our mother: “pretty is, as pretty does,” which impressed to us that it was useless to only be pretty on the outside. We must be pretty inside, too. And so, my sister Barbara is my prettiest sister—inside and out.
The Flâneur's Turtle 