Today's topic: Visit.
This is a photo taken about 1983 of my grandmother and her brother when her brother and wife were visiting from Florida. (Left to right: my step-grandfather, my great-uncle, my grandmother, my great-aunt.)
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Start. . .
My Uncle Ira was one of my favorite people. Both of my biological grandfathers passed before I was born, and my (Great) Uncle Ira stepped in and filled a grandfather-type role to me. He was my first pen-pal, and he'd tuck fun things into the envelopes -- one of my favorites was a handmade card where he used my head on different characters. Often I'd get $1 for bubble gum. Our paper had a bank advertising IRA investments and I'd often send him those clippings that said "I love my IRA"
Nothing beat when they would visit, though. I can remember one time the phone rang, and my mother said, "Guess who is over at Grandma's?" I didn't answer her, I was out the door faster than if the house had been on fire -- I couldn't wait to see Ira. I remember I didn't stop running until I was hugging him.
I loved his visits. I just loved having him around. I'm not sure what the connection was between us, but I thought he was fantastic. A WWII veteran, he once sent me a photo of him on D-Day that was printed in a Florida paper that he was in -- the fact he was in it and it was printed in his paper was totally random. He refused to talk about the war.
I especially loved how he took a walk every evening. He had to "Stretch his legs". Walking with him was so neat, I loved the attention, being able to talk to him and it being the two of us, or three of us if his wife came along.
I loved his visits and remember them fondly.
. . . stop.
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