I’m visiting my Grandfather today to try to distract him from some stress. Obviously, this led to story telling...and these are good ones. Posting from my phone with poor reception so no images.

I mentioned that I realized that my grandmother was born in 1932 and he was in the 1920's. They’ve seen so much over the years. His response:

“I grew up in Chelsea...went to school in this big building. Two city blocks easily. I must have been in about 4th grade or so when we were sitting in class when our teacher said to get up, we are going outside. So we walk outside to the school yard and look up at this very big derigible. It was the Hindenburg flying over Boston on it’s way South. We watched it fly overhead on what would be its last trip. It blew up after I saw it, you know? I have a picture somewhere of it flying over capital hill I think. No idea where it is though...maybe you’ll find it one day.”

Yup. He’s old.

Then we were sitting here and he has a show on reporting about the 1960 Thresher submarine disaster. That, of course, led to another story:

“I was working in a facility [didn’t remember what company he said] in Boston, second job as a security guard. It was an overnight shift and typically those that show up were scientists who needed to check on things late at night or early in the morning. Now, the Thresher submarine investigation was going on. The Navy was looking into it by using their deep water subs. This night, a guy shows up accompanied by Navy officers. They needed to go to the warehouse and get some bulbs for the subs...the ones they had blew out.”

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At this point, Grandpa looks up with a smile.

“That’s right, I played a part in the discovery of the Thresher.”

He then sat there chuckling for a bit. I love his stories.

Now, more than ever, I’m realizing how precious these stories are. Call the oldest person in your family and say hi. You never know when it’ll be too late.

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