As Grandma Lu drove down the highway she shook her head and thought about the ruckus in the hotel the night before. It had turned out well, but someone tried to steal the journal from the front seat of the car. "Mercy, it seems like it never ends with this journal. Over the generations folks have tried to steal it from my family. It is a keepsake for sure. It has stories, maps, even copies of deeds. The most important of course, is of the silver mine on Double D Dude Ranch. There are written memories of children and their children's children that is so very dear to me. As the years have passed by the interest in my family has dwindled. The ones that are left say they can look up my ancestors on the computer and don't need anything in the faded and hard to read history in this old journal. She gave it a loving look and whispered, "It will live on as long as the museum in Texas stands, old friend." She patted the soft leather and smiled to herself. "Ah the memories from my childhood. My memories aren't between your old covers, but I have put some on the computer. I guess I, too, have turned to computers instead of writing them on paper."
As she drove she thought of her stern old grandfather for some reason. "You know, I never did like you, Grandpa. I guess it was because you didn't like me either. You used to tell Mom to shut me up. I talked too much. My goodness you told her to get rid of my brother because he was too noisy. She chuckled as she thought about her sister. He liked her. I think there were several reasons. She was the first grandchild, she had red hair and freckles like you and yes, she did not ask as many questions as I did and was definitely not as noisy as our brother. After years of avoiding you I think I have figured you out. I think you were angry that you got old. Not me, I'm celebrating it! It's a sad thing that not once did I ever see you smile."
Up ahead she saw a squirrel cross the road. That made her smile. "Well, he did have one soft spot, that old man did. He liked squirrels. I can remember going to their house on Sundays and holidays and he would escape the children and go outside. He had an old stump in the back yard that he would sit on. He had a stiff hip and the stump was just the right height for him to easily sit on. When he propped up his cane to the stump (yes, I did sneak out there and watched him) he would reach into his pants pocket and pull out a hand full of nuts. He called every squirrel he fed Jimmy. Made no difference what they looked like they were Jimmy. He would softly call, 'Here, Jimmy Here, Jimmy' and they would walk right up to him and wait for him to toss them their favorite treat. Evidently he had been doing that for years."
As she traveled down the road she thought, "I think when I get home I will ask Marlee if she and Whitlee would like to help me write a story about Jimmy and the lessons he learned when he left his home in Iowa.
