I received a call tonight from my Granddaddy's favorite niece. Haven't seen her since my grandmother's funeral a few years ago. A distant relative sent her a five-inch binder crammed full of family genealogy, tracing our line back to Wales in the 1700s. She's fixing mistakes to the last three generations, name misspellings and such, and trying to compile photographs for those relatives who don't have one. Then she's going to send me a copy of it.
There've been so many times I wished I'd written down those little bits of information my grandfather told me, like that his grandmother was 75% cherokee, or that an ancestor served under George Washington. I can't wait to get my hands on that book. It feels like a small connection to him.