When I was 17, Heff and I went to visit Grandma Bunny in Rockford. She was getting on in years but was pretty much all there mentally. We spent a very pleasant couple of hours trading stories and memories, mostly about “Up North” at Squirrel Lake and her recollections about Moop and my aunt Marilyn.

I was surprised at how many details Grandma Bunny remembered about my mom and her childhood.

She talked about how Moop had once built a canoe from scratch, and how she used to deliver medications for a pharmacy back in Rockford.

She related how Marilyn used to be the pretty, popular one that all the boys asked out in high school.

She told us stories about all of the Griggs kids, and about her sisters Margot and Jean.

She even told Heff about what went wrong with her marriage to my Grandpa Wormley. They divorced when Moop was just five and Marilyn was only about one or two.

As we got up to go, I was thinking it’d be great to be her age and still be mentally sharp. She was close to 80 at the time. Heff and I said our good-byes and turned to walk back to the car, and suddenly she stopped us.

“I just have to ask you one thing,” she said. “Who are you?”