“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”
~Henry David Thoreau
I could write volumes about this man, but I’m not confident in my own abilities to put the quality of his character into words. This is a gentleman I met several years ago who, like most grandfathers, couldn’t stop telling me about his children and grandchildren. But his stories were always imbued with a thoughtfulness and a history that I was able to learn more and more about him – where he has been and what he has done in his life, the people the he loved and lost, the jobs he worked and the places he lived, the hardships and celebrations – and I valued every last second I had, telling stories about our families, discussing moral and social philosophy, and eating marijuana chocolate and laughing at inappropriate jokes.
This is a man who has lived life to an extent, in my estimation, that few ever do.
This is a man that has positively affected my life, and changed it for the better.
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“True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your high school class is running the country.”
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I’ll be spending the better part of today in airports, threading my way through Chicago and onto Hartford where my aunt and uncle live. Connecticut is one of the most beautiful states that I have absolutely no knowledge of; sadly, this will not be the voyage that finds me discovering much. My grandmother needs assistance traveling back home to Kansas City, and I will be the steady arm for her to hold onto.
These posts may not arrive until after I return; since I will be traveling far to see my grandmother for the first time in several months, and because I know our time is limited, I will be focusing on enjoying the trip and spending time with dear relatives that I woefully do not often get to see.
I’ll be gathering pictures and stories throughout.
I leave this short post pointing to the image above. For any soul who has traveled the roads south of Tucson, along the San Pedro river, you may have driven through the peculiar and verdant valley town of Saint David. The store’s full name is “Grandma Goodman’s” and I cannot recall a time that it was ever open for business. I like to imagine that it was a small general store, and I like to imagine that it was as quaint as its name suggests.