We lived here six months while our house in Fargo was being readied.  I got out of school early, so did not have older sisters to guide me home, and got lost.   I walked and walked, getting more and more lost and broke down in tears, wetting my panties in anxiety.  No one noticed, but soon I became aware of the iron pylon with a cannonball on top that protected cars from the open gutter, and it looked like an iron little girl to me.  As I stared at it, it became a symbol of my own iron self within me, and I knew I had the courage to find home.  I asked the nearest passerby to take me to the police.  When I got home, Mother was so full of praise for my having taken charge of myself, being so self-sufficient.  Here was born the stubborn autonomy that has been my lifelong prized possession.