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The Rest of the Story Marjorie Cornelia Day was a well educ educator, a class president, summa cum laude graduate of Wellesley. Her academic career led her to Oxford in the early 1920s. Personally, however, Ms. Day was not nearly so serious minded as her credentials may have suggested. In fact, hardly anybody ever called her anything but Daisy. Daisy Day. In 1926 she took a study vacation with several friends to the southwestern most coast of England. The month was April, damp and chilly. Daisy caught cold, a particularly bad cold. Cold kept her awake for days and nights on end. In fact, by the end of April, Daisy became so ill that friends cabled her father the situation was serious. He must come at once. He did. By then his daughter had lapsed into a coma. In all probability, the cold she had caught was in fact encephalitis. Her situation would be described by physicians as hopeless. But this is the rest of the story. Daisy awakened. Daisy woke up. She regained consciousness, although with no memory of anyone or anything that had happened to her. Rehabilitation would be an arduous process. The current events of which she read in the newspapers were utterly unfamiliar. Even the names of the most renowned world leaders and world shakers sounded strange to her. The most routine social customs amazed Daisy, as did the most common conveniences of the 20th century, which everybody else was taking for granted. So it was that this once learned woman was forced to begin learning all over again. One thing had not abandoned Daisy Day, a characteristic undiminished by the ravages of encephalitic amnesia that was her powerful personal determination. For Daisy met head on the considerable challenge of reach education, each day rediscovering as many as possible of the facts that comprise her world and her family and even herself. And in this, the greatest battle of her life, Daisy did triumph. She got her memory back. She got her career back. She taught Latin and sociology and psychology at Mount Vernon College until the age of 70. She lived a full rich 28 years beyond that in Bethesda, Maryland, until she died at 98. Unless you underestimate the achievement of reclaiming her life after her illness, there's one thing more that you really ought to know. That Marjorie Cornelia Daisy Day fell asleep in the spring of 1926 and awakened in a world of unfamiliar turmoil, shaped by leaders and misleaders of whom she had never heard. A society of dial telephones and bobby pins and escalators and ice cubes, of movies that talked and women who drank socially and gentlemen who ate in restaurants without neckties. A new and utterly confusing era whose heroes had unrecognizable names. Lindbergh, Earhart, Franklin Roosevelt, Winston Churchill. For you see, Daisy Day, a remarkable real life. Rip Van Winkle did not rejoin the rest of us until 1943, after slumbering through celebrations and the outrageous fortunes of our planet for 17 years. And now you know the rest of the story.