Until I spent the weekend with my 92-year-old grandfather, I assumed that the epitome of one’s past, present and future was reflected in the children.  But after being with Grampa, it’s definitely him more than my two little ones that shows me this.

Grampa reminds me of what I used to be:  a little girl drawing pictures of flowers and writing, “I LOV YUO GAMBA” in squiggle crayons.  Grampa reminds me of what I am:  a 44-year-old woman who needs to remember that being 44 is just a number.  Grampa reminds me of my future: if I take care of myself, I’ll hopefully be 92 and working and taking care of a house and running circles around my 44 year old grandchildren.

Grampa taught me so much this weekend about our family history, about him, and even about myself.  I think it’s a rare treat for a family historian to come home from a family visit with her 92-year-old Grampa with 485 scans, 602 stories, and a lifetime of memories.

Thanks, Grampa.

Grampa and his sister Harriet