Nobody will probably remember your grandparents if you don’t write about them.  And the generation before them...gone.  My great-grandmother’s name was Sarah.  She was left to raise five children by herself when her husband was convicted of a crime he didn’t commit. (It is a long story--he really was innocent.)  He died in prison.  My grandmother--as a result--was an orphan when her Sarah died.  My grandmother married at fourteen (she always said “almost fifteen) and she and my grandfather also raised five children and put them all through college in the twenties.  Unheard of at the time back then for anyone to go to college. As a result, all five of them stressed education.  I was the only one in the next generation that didn’t go to college right out of high school.  I got married, and didn’t start higher education until I was 27 and Ken had gone to Viet Nam.  I was the family failure because I didn’t immediately go to college.  All of my aunts and uncles kept after me until I enrolled.  When I got my first set of grades, I remember that I brought the report in,  plopped it on the kitchen counter and said, “There.”  Of course it was all A’s.  I may have been late, but I wouldn’t have dared made a B.