The Stone

Last week, during some of my daily, mindless scrolling through FB, I came across a group post where the question was asked that if you could have something today from the 1970’s, what would it be?

Without hesitation, I punched in “My grandparents”

To my surprise, several people “liked” and mentioned they felt the same.

I was fortunate that up until age 9, booth sets of grandparents lived within 10 minutes of us with my maternal grandparents living next door.

My maternal grandfather was a hard working carpenter for the Chicago Bridge and Iron Company. For those of you in Central New Jersey, my grandfather worked on the construction of what is still the world’s tallest watersphere, located  in Union, NJ near where Rt. 22 and the Garden State Parkway meet.

He taught me a lot about carpentry, but he also was patient with me and we would do all sorts of activities together. He death in 1974 was How It All Began.

Tonight, after dinner and watching a movie with Alicia, I decided I was going to sharpen my pocket knife and it was as I was doing so that I recalled that the stone I was using was my grandfathers and the wooden case that held it securely showed the many years (70+?) it has been in either his hands or mine.

Tonight I was reminded of the things we did together and I wondered if one day Adeline, Theodore or Maddox would  recall things that they will have done with their grandfather?

Would they cherish the items that will be passed down once I’m gone or will they be meaningless trinkets to be lost or forgotten?

Maybe 1964?

Having been adopted, I don’t have my grandparent’s DNA like my grandchildren have mine, not that it matters, but I do think about those connections and how part of me will live on, even when I’m gone.

Will one of my grandchildren find the stone in the wooden box and even know that it was their great, great grandfather’s?

Funny how a 7″ X 2″ sharpening stone can provide an evening of memories and pondering.