Seventeen years of that was driving him around for chores and visits to see his friends one day a week. It was a joy to listen to all the stories.He became ill and it was decided I’d move in to help care for him so he could stay in his own home longer. We’d work on getting the stories down to his pictures for his family tree. The daily news was read to him and discussed at length. He passed away a few years ago. I’ve realized I miss listening to the stories of days past.