Well, my Grandpa died...

My father's father was a strong man. He wasn't someone who could lift a lot or leap tall buildings, but he came over from Poland in between world wars and his family made a life for themselves here. He worked hard and got an education and became an engineer and started his own company and when he wanted to retire did a responsible thing and sold that company to the employees so that they could have a little bit of the American Dream themselves. His son, my father, benefited from that success and so have I. What matters all the more is the person he was. The time he took to spend with this children and grandchildren. I still remember the visits to his Pittsburgh home, especially the one when my grandmother had died and we had to go through her things and received mementos. Grandpa was strong and probably was taking his mind off of things by teaching me how to play a little game called Casino. It was time spent together I will always remember and that is how I choose to remember him, not the Grandpa in the decline over the last ten or so years, the Grandpa confined to a wheelchair, to life without much sight, sound, or actual experience. My grandpa was a man who relished life and his experiences, even the simple ones of a good kosher hotdog. I miss him.

I'm off the funeral in Pittsburgh for a bit and will be flying back Sunday night.

I know, how could a New England gal like me miss the Superbowl?

Some things are just more important.

Happy Knitting.