This is my grandpa Spaid. I barely know him. I mean I knew him, but I don't know him at all. I couldn't tell you what he did for a living. I couldn't tell you what his favorite color was or what his favorite food was. I know he like to tinker in the garage, and I know he drove me around on a banana seat bike in Albuquerque some hundred years ago.
What I wouldn't give to be able to have a conversation with him or any of my grandparents now. The elderly really are lost on children. The questions I would ask any of my grandparents as an adult are plentiful.
What was your first memory?
What was your first love like?
What was your first car?
Did you go to college? What did you study?
What did you do for fun in high school?
Where did you travel? Where did you want to travel?
And the list goes on and on. When I was young and I spent time with the grandparents I didn't want to know those boring old stories. And today, I'd give anything to sit and chat with any of them.
I think about, too often, what they would think of the world today. If we plucked them out of the time in history when they were, say in their 30's, and put them in today's world. What would they think? Would they be sad for us? Or would they marvel at the technology? Would they get headaches from all the information thrown at you? Or would they take it all in?
Its dawned on me recently that while we may "know" our family members, do we really "know" them? Do you know what you're brother's favorite color is? Or your mom's first car? So many questions. So many stories. I need to start asking those questions.
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