To Our Readers

My Grandfather Was kind, wise, gentle. He could peel an orange with his pocket knife in a way that would leave the peel in a perfect spiral, without ever breaking it. He took my brother and me on adventures to Bullfrog Creek and Lithia Springs and down the Alafia River to explore a shell mound left by the Native Americans a thousand years earlier. He always had a twinkle in his eyes that told me his warm laugh was never far away.

That was how I saw him when I was a boy. I never would have thought of him as "old." He was good. He was my grandpa.

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YOUR LETTERS
September 27, 1999
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