I had a wise and deep grandfather. He helped to raise us in Vermont. He took my mom and my sister and me in and we lived with Grampa and Nana in a small three-bedroom house with one bathroom, three generations of us, for much of my growing-up years. He was my father figure, and when I grew up, he became a friend to me. I couldn't wait for a chance to visit him, and even when we lived many states apart, I made those trips to Vermont every year to spend a few weeks with him. Lots of good times together. He died ten years ago, at age 92.

It snowed hard here this week and is still snowing. I think of Grampa Marvin and how he loved weather, snowfalls, and the hard work and challenges that they would bring. He loved to shovel. He loved to get out into the woods on his snowshoes, too.

When I came in from being out in the snow just now, I sat down in my son's room and saw Grampa Marvin's hat. The same hat that is in this photo from around 1980! It's something very special, that we have this hat. I've even seen my son wear it, though only in the house.

I think of Grampa so often. He was very quiet but also told good stories. I wish he were here tonight to sit and talk with me. I have a feeling he'd enjoy this snowfall. I miss him, sometimes more than I miss either of my parents. When I'm making big decisions, as I am these days, I want to run them by him. I suppose I still can, if I listen very hard.