As a child, I was not always happy with my red hair. It attracted lots of attention, both good and bad. I come from a family of brown-eyed brunettes, so I was somewhat of a surprise. I would like to blame Mary MacLean, my great-great-grandmother, for my hair color, but I know that the blame should really fall on some mutated genes. Growing up in small town Quebec, redheads were few and far between. This did not matter, however, as I always had Madeline, Pippi Longstocking and Anne Shirley to keep me company. Although I was not as adventurous as Pippi or as spunky as Anne, I loved the fact that they had red hair and saw them as "kindred spirits."
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