If you’ve read my earlier post, Grandma’s House – Gone But Not Forgotten, you may recall that I was reminiscing about my grandparents’ houses and all the rich memories I have of visiting and staying at their homes in eastern North Carolina when I was a boy. If you talk to my sister, she’ll tell you that some of those memories were a little blurry if not down-right made up from my overactive imagination, but suffice it to say we had a loving childhood with many hours spent with our grandparents on both sides of the family.

One thing’s for sure, however, a story our father told us recently about Grandma’s house won’t soon fade from either of our memories. We were in Littleton, NC, around a lunch table with my Dad, my sister and several of our cousins. We had gathered to take my Aunt Martha’s ashes up…