Donna – Maybe

We were five sisters, no brothers, and cute as can be.  Loving grandmother types would tease, saying “you must drive your daddy crazy!”  not knowing the horrors that we lived with.

People thought our father was nice.  He was good looking and a smooth talker.  But in private he would break glass and punch little faces.

We became known as “the Lehr Sisters” which could be taken either good or bad, depending on how cool or uncool you were.

The youngest sister was the biggest surprise, being born only two years before Donna died.  She doesn’t remember Donna, but she’s like her in many ways.

Donna was the most excited about my mother’s fifth pregnancy.  She fantasized about having her own baby one day and being able to name it a crazy hippie name.

She would would poll her friends and write lists titled “People who like the name Loveat.”

Donna died at age 16 in 1976.  There’s a huge collection of poetry she wrote before she died.  This is one:


I see you just about


sometimes for five minutes,

and sometimes

for a  few hours.

But I feel as if

I still don’t know you –

the real you.

But yet I’m certain

that I do love you.

Maybe that’s cause it’s you –

and me.

What a thought…


D. Lehr 9/29/75