Found this part of my past the other day as I was throwing out many of the piles of garbage from my basement. I believe this is the only writing I possess from my grandfather. Even though my grandmother, Betty, more than likely badgered Pap Pap (John) into making sure he sent an obligatory note from his hunting and fishing trips, it is a great memory to have in my current collection. I only have about three postcards left from my original collection but having this one is priceless. For anyone lucky enough to have met my grandfather, they would understand my reasons for valuing it so high. He was a great man and the absolute pinnacle of our family. This card was sent in '78 (best guess with what little date is showing) as I was 8 and he only lived another 3 years. He was still faster than me in my eleventh year and seemingly strong as an ox. We would race from the screen door of his back porch to the tire swing in my uncle's yard. He would make it close. I never won. He died fishing with his brother. A heart attack. We just don't find many men like him. They are the rarest of creatures. You can still see his parking sign from the Altoona School District if you ever venture down to Ossie Ryan's camp near Huntington, Pa.
As I type this out I feel myself missing him and all of the emotions of knowing I am getting old as well. My young children missed meeting him. They have a new Pap Pap (my father, Bill) and I am sure they will grow to feel the same about him as I still feel about John.