So? One muses.

As I was listening to the news last night the reporter stated that the attack on Pearl Harbor had occurred in 1941 - 67 years ago. I turned and said something to my son about that now being “ancient history.” An earlier story in the paper told of a local high school class being shown a collection of letters and pictures depicting the Nazi Holocaust. It then occurred to me that I was 17 December 7, 1941 and was sitting in the front room of my high school girl friend with her family when we heard the news. Today’s generation speaks of 9-11, and the paper has little mention of 12-7-41. A part of this remembering was brought about by a photo brother John sent the other day of brother Lee, 79; sister Dorothy Ann, 90; and himself at 84. This relates to a picture taken at Thanksgiving of three generations of our family: granddaughters Natalie and Stephanie with Stephanie’s baby (my first Great Granddaughter, Arianna) and me - Grandfather Taylor.

In the middle of the night I began to think about ages. Both twin brother, John, and I have become the oldest Taylor males at 84. Grandfather Taylor died a few days after turning 83. Our own Dad died from a heart attack at 59. Older brothers died at 63, 50, and 56. The latter two of heart attacks. Dorothy Ann is now in line to become the oldest survivor of the Taylor females. Grandmother Taylor died at 90 years, 10 months. The oldest of the Aunts died at 89 years, 8 months. There’s not much history on the Petit side of the family, but Grandpa Petit died at 69, and our Mother’s mother (Mary Cart) died at age 36. None of us ever knew her and there was little discussion of that side of the family that I recall.

So much for ancient history. It is remarkable that at 84 with a massive heart attack at age 33; two rounds of by-pass surgery; a couple of stents recently and with aortic stenosis I survive and can still remember and relate to all this. Sorry you had to read all this!