Today would have been Grandpa’s 95th birthday. He was born 01/20/20. Idk why it took me years to remember what day he was born on, when his day and year are the same number. I have a cousin who was born on Jan 19th, as well as our surrogate-foster brother-friend growing up, and Grandpa on the 20th and I always got confused and thought Grandpa was on the 19th as well. But it was 01/20/20. Sis sent a ‘thinking of you’ card to Grandma. It’s too bad this day didn’t fall on a weekend so we could have spent the day with her. But maybe that’s not what she would want - maybe she preferred to spend the day alone.

It seems like there are very few WWII veterans left these days and I feel like they have taken so much of their history with them. The things we read in our school books were mere facts compared to the stories Grandpa used to tell. He made that time come to life with vivid images and personal connections. And Grandma too, always telling her wild stories about traipsing across the country with her girlfriend and her new baby on her hip.

I also remember specifically a couple of the guys at Grandpa’s funeral talking about when Grandpa coached their Little league team. I never knew that actually, that Grandpa coached kids' sports. What I remember of him was just he and his grown sons going golfing together. It always seemed to me that Grandpa lived at the local golf course. That and the highway-side diner, where I loved for him to take me because they had the best gravy/roast beef dinner ever and he would introduce me to everyone there, so proud to be out with his granddaughter. I remember Grandpa going fishing with us. I remember him teaching us to cook and taking us for walks ‘back the lane’. A lot of Grandpa I got to experience first-hand, but so much was before my time and I had to capture those images through the stories he told.

I don’t wish to have lived in any time period other than this one, but it’s sad to see the memories of that time pass on. I guess all history is like that.