I remember that one time in college, when I was furnishing our assigned room in Lola Carmen’s home in Martinez Compound. It was on the second floor, at the very end of the hallway that had a squeaky but beautiful wooden floor. Our room was a big one that could fit four beds comfortably (well, because it once was occupied by Lola’s four girls, one of which is Mommy, when they were all still single. My sister and I each had a big bed (a double or maybe even a queen it was, such that our cousins could sleep over anytime) and a study desk, closets lining one side of the room and the bathroom two dressers that could accommodate four to six people applying makeup side by side. My sister, cousins and I used to pretend we were showgirls when we would find ourselves in that situation, usually Friday or Saturday night when we would go out to dance in the disco or watch a concert.