Thursday, July 5, 2012


On vacation this week with my kids and grandkids. Now, being a Grandpa is one pretty cool job. And when I hear a little voice calling "Grandpa....Grandpa", it's a title I hold very dear and hope to continue to earn. I often find myself reminded of my own Grandpa...and something I wrote about him some years ago.----I was thinking about my Grandfather the other night. My Dad’s Dad. He passed away long ago, but I think of him often. I remember one Christmas when I was about 16 or so...Grandpa stood at the end of the dinner table and gave a toast about getting through another and such. And just when I thought he was finished...he went on. In fluent French. Now, I knew our family ancestry was French, but I never knew Grandpa spoke the language. And as I listened to those beautiful words I didn’t understand...I watched his eyes fill with tears. It was at that moment that I realized this was a man recalling someone or something from somewhere in a life I knew nothing of. Filled with celebration and disappointment... Love lost and found...a young man’s dreams...some coming true and some never realized. Now, I’ll never know why the tears fell or what the beautiful French words said...but ever since then, when I pass on old man on the street...I often wonder...if a young man’s dreams ever came true...and if he speaks French.

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