Grandpa D

This last weekend I went to visit my Grandpa D and he told me stories. For hours we sat as he entertained me with the past, we even brought out his atlas so he could show me all the places he’s been. I was fascinated to learn how he and my grandma were serving an irrigation mission in Egypt at the time that Sadat was killed and Mubarak took over power. I tried with my might to pick his brain about what it was like, if there was a change in the atmosphere, and any political insights I could get. However he didn’t have too many details to share about Mubarak’s presidency. I began to notice a trend in grandpa’s stories. He remembered people. He remembered the men that he served with in WWII, the boys he played ball with, the professor that inspired him, the kid in his seminary class who was a scripture mastery whiz, and the names of irrigation engineers he’d worked with around the world. That's what amazed me; he’s ninety-one and still remembers their names. I want that out of India, and out of my whole life. History books will record the presidential facts, but they can’t remind you of the people who changed your life. Grandpa reminded me it was the relationships he’d built and the service he’d rendered that made his life beautiful. I hope my research in India is awesome, but thirty years from this experience I hope I can say more of the people I met than the work I did.