About

I want to record my memories. My stories. From as early as I can remember on up to now.  I don’t think my stories are precious, or anything like that.

My grandpa had a great memory and could tell amazingly detailed stories about his childhood and college and early adulthood years.  One of the last times I visited with him, when he was 91, in the hospital with 2 kinds of cancer, he told me about a day of fishing with two of his buddies, when he was 22. The story was so detailed it was like a window into another time. I time traveled with my gram pa that day.  Of course, none of grandpa’s stories were ever written down or recorded. They just came with the natural flow of conversation. A unique language event that existed once and now lives second hand in the memories of those who were there.

My own dad had a phenomenal memory too. But he rarely told stories of his youth. He had a few favorites that were very condensed.  No tangents. Few details.  Don’t get me wrong here, I am not complaining. My dad was enormously well read, voraciously curious, and a wonderful, witty  conversationalist. We had many a laugh while covering a broad range of serious subjects.

Anyhow, I wish I had transcripts or recordings of my grandpa telling one of his stories. And of some of my conversations with my dad.  Since I don’t have them, in tribute to two great talkers, I am going to write out some of my memories, for myself, and for any who care to venture in.