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" I believe that families are not only blood relatives but sometimes people who just show up and love you when no one else will. In May 1977, I was living in a Howard Johnson&amp;#039;s motel off Interstate 10 in Houston. My dad and I shared a room with two double beds and a bathroom way too small for a modest 15-year-old girl and her father. Dad&amp;#039;s second marriage was deteriorating, and my stepmother had kicked us both out of the house the previous week. Dad had no idea what to do with me.  That&amp;#039;s when my &amp;quot;other&amp;quot; family showed up. Barbara and Roland Beach took me into their home because their only daughter, Su, my best friend, asked them to. I lived with them for the next seven years. Barb starched my drill team skirts, same as Su&amp;#039;s. She made sure I had doctors&amp;#039; appointments, help with homework, Jordache jeans, and nightly hugs. She and Roland attended every football game when Su and I marched, every school play I performed in, even when I had no speaking lines. As far as I could tell, for the Beaches, there was no difference between Su and me...I was their daughter too.  When Su and I left for rival colleges, the Beaches kept my room the same for the entire four years I attended school. Recently, Barb gave me the insurance policy they&amp;#039;d bought when I first moved in with them and continued to pay on for 23 years, so I could cash it out. My mother died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound when I was 7, and from then on, my father mostly relied on other people to raise my sister and brother and me. By the time I went to live with the Beaches, I believed that life was unfair and that love was untrustworthy.  With the Beaches, I came a long way in learning to open my heart, but it was not always my first inclination. I&amp;#039;d also learned early on to rely only on myself and to view even those with good intentions as a little suspect. When I became a young woman, I dated men, some decent and some who reinforced the indelible perception I had of the world as a terrible and frightening place. Each time I stumbled, the Beaches guided me back into the world, showing me that love can, if not overcome, then certainly assuage one&amp;#039;s fears. Without them, I would have become a bitter, cynical woman.  After working in the hospitality industry for many years, I took a job at a university. Selling $15,000 hotel suites in Miami Beach had been a sexy endeavor, but it was a shadow to the joy I now find in raising money to support college students.  I&amp;#039;ve never married, but I have the Beaches and I always will. I believe in family. For me, it wasn&amp;#039;t the family that was there on the day I was born. It was the one that was there for me when I was living in a Howard Johnson&amp;#039;s on Interstate 10.  -- Cecile Gilmer lives with her cat and dog in Logan, UT. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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