We went to a fish fry on Friday, my very first because I don’t eat fish. My grandpa really wanted to go and I thought it would be a fun experience for the boys (they LOOOVE seafood, go figure). It was held at the very school my mom attended at a young girl. Not only did I get to hear more of my grandpa’s stories (how much he enjoyed fishing as a boy with his dad, about Grandma as a young woman, and the old house on Ferry Street), I also learned a few new things about my mom – such as where she liked to play as a child AND more about the family dog she swears was evil.
Making the most of this time. Creating memories for the boys to embrace.
Speaking of the house on Ferry Street (the one my mom grew up in), I learned that the light fixture hanging in one of Grandpa’s spare bedrooms used to hang in their old dining room. The fixture was “rescued” before the city tore the house down.
A framed photograph of the Ferry Street house also hangs in the front entryway of grandpa’s current home. How cool is that? My grandma was such a sentimentalist.
Guess I am, too, which is why I’m enjoying these visits so much.