PopPop

One of the most dedicated readers of this blog passed away the week before Thanksgiving: the Fuzzman's father, my father-in-law, and most especially, PopPop to Digger and the Cub. Starting about a year ago, PopPop became ill with Parkinson's disease and cancer. But in healthier times, you could find him in the garage with Digger, building with the tools he loved and had accumulated over a lifetime. One time they made a giant letter--Digger's first initial. Another time they built a sturdy box that we still use to hold pencils and rulers and scissors for school. And most recently, they cut out all the pieces for a full-sized wooden go-cart and had it shipped 1500 miles so that Digger could assemble it at home.

On the last visit we had to PopPop's house before he got sick, the Cub wanted to get in on the building action. The Cub decided that he wanted to build an airplane with PopPop and he was absolutely sure that when it was finished he would be able to get in it and fly away. After all, PopPop could build anything. So they built the plane, and though it was small enough to hold in your hand and it couldn't really fly, the Cub still thought it was wonderful. The Cub got his garage time with PopPop just in time.

We miss you, PopPop.