I never met my Dad's Father, and I was with my Mom's Father in Germany twice, once when I was 4 years old and once when I was 27.

I called my German Grandfather "Opa" which I understand is German for Grandfather, and I hope I'll be called that one day by my Grandkids.

I think it would be an honor to the "Opa" I met only twice and really never knew.

Of course I remember quite a bit about Opa from 1976 when I was in Germany visiting as a 27 year old young man, but I remember little about the trip when I was 4, in 1953.

Yet, there is one thing I do remember about Opa from then. Every time he would come home from work, I would run to him and reach in his jacket pocket, it was so high, but I just could reach it and have enough arm left to reach down in it when he leaned over to help me, and I'd dig around in there until I found it.

He always had a piece of candy in there for me. As a 4 year old, that was a big deal and it's stuck with me to this day.

As much as I try, I cannot remember my German Grandmother, 'Oma' from when I was four. She had became diabetic in the early 1970's and passed away by the time I visited as an adult in 1976.

My brother had visited a few years earlier and he did get to meet her as an adult. She had recently lost part of one leg to her diabetic condition, but at least Randy was able to meet her.

That was fitting as my brother Randy was her 'favorite' when we had visited in 1953.

Randy was a 1 year young baby, and since Mom had traveled from Missouri to NYC via train for over a day, missed her flight due to weather, put up with me, a 4 year old, and Randy, a 1 year old, plus endured a 22 hour flight across the Atlantic, she was ready for some relief. She said that when she got to West Germany, as it was called then, Oma took Randy and my Mom was happy to pass the kids to their Opa and Oma.

    Kurt Gross