Personal Writing: An-Yang "Shua-nging!" (Children!) The sound of her strident voice reverberates down the narrow stairwell. I remember that musty, dark, winding stairwell that led to her second floor apartment in Glendale as vividly as I did the day I established a meaningful relationship with my grandmother. Through this relationship, I have come to know her as a friend, a confidante, and lastly, a woman I admire. I was only seven at the time, and the only thing I cared about was the fact that my grandmother spoke in a very loud and grating voice, and that she kept on patting my hand (which annoyed me to