Who knew that I would hold fondly the memories of Grandpa drawing a gun on me? Of course, it wasn't a real gun; just his outstretched finger and thumb. How this unusual greeting of his got started, I don't remember. I can picture him now, sitting in his chair, dressed in his denim overalls, and pointing at me as I entered his house. He always "shot" me with a smile on his face, and I knew he loved me. I "shot" back, and I think he knew I loved him, too.
|Photo: Grandpa in his overalls|
Thanks for Grandpa.