Deep Roots Family Tree Blog

Favorite Story

This is the last picture that I took with my grandpa Leroy. My mom’s dad. I was 21 and Alzheimer’s was not so slowly consuming him. He could not call me by name, but he definitely, definitely, knew who I was.

It was no secret that I was grandpa’s favorite and biggest troublemaker. Many of my core childhood memories involve him.

I spent a lot of time with him as a kid. This was a tiny tiny town in North Dakota where everyone knew everyone. Walking down the streets, I would be known as Anna or Leroy’s granddaughter. Or Lonnie’s kid.

I spent most of my summers there and being a tiny town, there wasn’t a whole lot to do. I don’t remember this entirely, but I would go to the cafe with grandpa every morning, sometimes as early as 5am, when he would help peel potatoes and have coffee with his friends. I got to tag along. Every morning, I would get a cup with a little bit of coffee in it to dunk my cake donut (also known as “grandpa” donuts) in it.

My parents had come from home for the tiny county fair that happened every year. I’ve been told that almost every older gentleman that we passed said hello to me, and I knew who they were by name. Somewhat alarmed, my dad had asked me where I knew all these old men from. “Coffee with grandpa.” I said. I was probably around 5 or 6 at the time.

I still prefer to hang out with older people. So many good stories from a very different time.