Growing up on the hill was special because it was one big extended family. June made it special for all of us. To my grandmother, Beeda, she was her baby. On June’s birthday, she always stopped by to see Gram. To my mother, Millie, she was her big sister. To me, she was my “Aunt June.” After school, we kids went over to the Behuniaks to play baseball, football, hunt, fish, or whatever. She was always welcoming with her warm smile. Of course, there were the Oreo cookies and Hershey’s chocolate milk. My most enduring memories, however, are of her zipping around in her Triumph Spitfire. She would go by the house, beep the horn, and wave. Gram would say, “There goes June.” She was always busy doing things with the church and town, always seeming to be smiling and enjoying herself. Then, there were the hats. Those wonderful hats. Recently, I saw a photo of June that Helene posted on Facebook. It was June as a young woman wearing a jaunty hat and jodhpurs with a shotgun and pheasant in hand. That was the younger woman I remembered so long ago. Thank you June for being so special and making the hill such a special place to grow up.