Opening Narration: In those days before Thanksgiving 1947, it seemed unlikely that we would sit down together as a family for the traditional dinner. The years of growing up were passing, and we were caught in the tides of our individual lives, separated by much more than miles.
Closing Narration: There is in the wonder of childhood the magic of believing— the all-entrusting sensitive mind that reaches out to be touched. Our Grandfather's long presence on this mountain made him live on in the lives of the family who cherished him, somehow even unto a great-grandson he never knew. Blessings need not always be understood, only deeply felt. That Thanksgiving Day in 1947 became a day of release and discovery. I'd come home again, and home was still there.