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My parents (Lou and Jeanelle) met one summer in Almonesson, NJ. My mother lived in a house on the lake there, and my father, a college student at Penn, rented next door with fraternity brothers. His rental partners wanted a different house elsewhere in the state, but my father won out! And that was that! The "quirks of chance"!

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For many, to think of one's story as a miracle may seem silly...but, as you elegantly put it, there is too much that needs to happen (or not happen) for our story to be just due to chance. So, I would say that "miracle" is the perfect word for all of our unique, individual stories.

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