My mother gave my children a priceless gift. It’s called the grandparent book, filled with pages of questions that she and my dad answered. They completed it in 1986. I’m sure neither of them thought for a minute that they would both still be around 20 years later, but they are. (Edited to add – this was written in 2006. Mom passed away in May and Dad in October of 2008). So far, I’m the one that has gotten the MOST enjoyment out of it. Children always find it fascinating to learn about the person the parent has hidden from their view. When you’re little, your mom is simply your mom. Grandma is just your grandma. In your little world they play no other roles. I will always regret that I didn’t listen better as a child to the story within the story. Now that I care, it’s too late for a lot of it. The fact that my mother took the time to compile this hand written memoir for all her grandchildren is an incredible act of love. She didn’t concentrate on only the good, wise and happy things, although I know that this is mostly how she lived her life. Coming to terms with both the positive and the negative stuff is how we come to understand and make sense of our family background and finally of ourselves. And the fact that she got my dad to contribute is a gift in itself, since I know he would never have bothered with it on his own. What they shared is treasured. I want them to know that there could never be a more valuable inheritance than this.