Well, my paternal grandfather died before I was born, but as some of you know, through my dad's and sibling's stories, I felt as though I'd known him. He was a larger-than-life rancher and a hell of a shot. His father, who had been a lawman in the Cherokee Strip,was a pioneer rancher on the western slope of Colorado and is the one who had a shoot-out with a neighbour. Said neighbour's widow reputedly said it was the best thing anyone had ever done for her. My dad's maternal grandfather was from Nova Scotia and looked like a tall, not too heavy Santa, with a long, beautiful white beard. It's that side I got my red hair from.

My maternal grandpa died when I was five, so I knew him a little bit. I have his chair and a picture of him sitting in it, with his pipe. He made wooden toys as a hobby, giving 100 away to needy children in Denver each Christmas. I have a few, precious ones he gave me as a child. Fortunately, his wife, my grandma, wrote her memoirs when she was in her 70's and I have those, including some about him courting her and their early days as a married couple. He was originally from Pennsylvania.