So. I know I should've written about John Glenn the other day. About Presidents Day and my mom's sweetfaced cousin Evelyn, who just turned 90 and is still as sharp as her sister Marjorie and an entire box of tacks. I'm just back from the genealogical library hereabouts, doing a bit of assisted looking for Grandpa - well, his mother, to be more exact. Today's her son's birthday. Albert Harley Wolfe came into the world at the time/space intersection of February 23, 1891/Flora, Clay County, Illinois. And he was still a red haired boy when his mother died. When Grandpa died, her name was not listed on his death certificate. So who the heck was she? What were the circumstances? What happened to my great-grandfather after he gave his kids up, not being able to take care of them? How did it happen that Harley's little red-headed sister, Emma, wound up on an orphan train to Minnesota? [Her adoptive parents changed her name to Alice Stickney, but she was able to keep in touch w/ her big brother....

How could anybody not get hooked on the hunt for ancestors?

ah well. It's Grandpa's birthday. The anniversary of my dad's deathday - I don't mean that in a weepy manner, chewing the lower lip. It's good to note the days, to write down the names, lest we forget.