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A Little Peace

I've always been interested in people. In their stories. Why do they make the decisions they do, why are they the way they are? I remember purchasing a "fill-in-the-blank" book for my grandfather years ago and sending it to him. I was just sure he'd relish the opportunity to fill in this 100 page book and send it back to me for my perusal. After all, I loved hearing his stories!

But he didn't fill out the book. Not even a page.

He probably intended to "someday" or more likely, he never intended to because it was just too daunting. And, eventually he passed away and took his wonderful stories with him. Oh I remember some of them. I remember a few stories about him living in Hawaii while serving in WWII. And the bootlegger stories - those were my favorite! So unlike anything I've experienced. He and his brother Jessie were hellions of sorts, growing up in rural Kansas.

I've tried to hobble these stories together to tell my kids but I'm missing the richness of detail. I wish I would have paid more attention, I wish I would have written something in that book instead of simply mailing it. I wish...I wish...I wish...

But I recorded my dad's stories before he passed away. I guess I learned something. And now those stories are preserved and I can hear my dad's voice, his cadence, his chuckle. I know I won't ever forget my dad but having this little piece of him saved brings me a little peace. It's not him but it sure brings up wonderful memories of him.


Peoria, AZ, USA

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