Thinking about blank books

When I was a kid, my great-grandparents finished their lives in the home they had built in Darien, Connecticut in 1914. My maternal grandparents shared the home with them and provided much of their care but not all of it. My great-grandparents were beloved, and their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren came to see them at every opportunity. It was easy. It was natural. We were all at home. (More)