Remembering Grandpa


People

When I was a child, I had more grandmothers than I could count—grandmothers and step-grandmothers and great-grandmothers, all beloved— but only one Grandpa. Grandpa was from Minnesota—a tough cookie, hardly sick a day in his life. He loved snow and popcorn and apple cider and northern lakes. He could tell stories that left us in […]

June 10, 2013

The best part about Grandpa


People

Hard workin hands. Logger man hands. I remember how they felt around mine when I was seven, tagging along on his errands. I remember how they looked holding the whoopie pies I baked him, their smooth circles dwarfed by his huge fingers. All of his sons were big sturdy men with hands to match, but […]

February 12, 2013