When my great-uncle receives visitors, he’s almost always to be found in his usual chair in his library. At 97 years old, his days now are primarily spent among these floor-to-ceiling bookcases full of pages containing stories of great adventures, ideas, and loves.
His nieces and nephews must seem to him to be zipping about the world without staying put long enough for anyone to recall where they are at a given time. And yet it is he who tells the stories during our visits.
