Several years ago my six year old Grand-daughter Emma gave me, for my Birth-day, a blank booklet entitled, “My Life”. The booklet contained pages with headings such as; “Me as a Baby”, “My Early Childhood”, etc., I think you get the idea. While I was looking it over I thought of how wonderful it would be if I had such a record of my Grandparents and my Parents! How wonderful it would be if all of us could have an idea of the interests and the lives of those whose genes we carry.

I have problems writing except on the occasions when some thought or memory is just busting to be put on paper. I have often, through the years written short and very crude stories of events and experiences that for some reason have came once more to the surface of my mind.

I would then tuck the tale away, thinking that someday, maybe my kids would come upon them and find some amusement for a few moments, long after I was gone and could no longer show my embarrassment.

In the years since Emma gave me the booklet I have gone through the things that I have, thru the years, accumulated, and found many of the stories plus a few I had forgotten. I have up-dated them and, as the mood led me, written some new ones, I make no claims for being able to spell, for correct grammar and sentence structure or any of the other talents that real writers possess, but I am able to say they are generally true, with perhaps just a little editorial license some of the time. I will leave it to the reader to determine when those departures from the strict truth occur. A little uncertainty is good for one, it builds character!

So, read them, find some pleasure in them if you can, if you cannot I give you my permission not to read them again, I don’t know what more I can say except ,”thank you dearest Emma, I love you more than I can ever say!”