Would that I could

Once in a while. when I read what Mr. Keillor has written, I find myself agreeing with him whole-heartedly. Two weeks ago Garrison wrote Taking a New Look at Grandpa:

"There's a lot I'd like to know about my ancestors - what was on their minds? - but they left no record of that. Memoirs are a luxury of the upper middle class. People who've been working on the railroad tend not to sit down in the evening and write elaborate thoughts in their journals. They're too tired. And in our family, personal identity was considered self-indulgence. A good disciple of the Lord should be conformed to His Will, expressing what's on His Mind, not your own, which works against the memoiristic impulse."

Seems to me that makes all bloggers bound for hell.

Apparently, Garrison's grandfather worked for the Soo Line. So did mine.
Apparently, Garrison's grandfather fathered thirteen children. Mine twelve, my mother at the age of seventy-six.

What I would like for Father's Day this Sunday are the blog/email addresses or mobile/fax numbers of my father (Arthur LeRoy), both grandfathers (Arthur Neil and Max Ludwig) and all four great-grandfathers (Christian Guldager, Jacob, Heinrich Ferdinand and William). I can speak the languages of any of them, just let me at them. Give me thirty minutes with each one. Fifteen for them to ask me questions, fifteen for me to ask them. Price of the connection is not a problem.

Today I watched, with tears welling in my eyes, as my wife started writing inside her Father's Day card the words - "Dear Papa." What a privilege to be able to write those words. Would that I could.