Like everyone I have some interesting relatives. Family gatherings are best spent listening to the same stories for the umpteenth time. A lot of the tales revolve around how my Dad and his brother and friends tried to give my Grandma a heart attack...there was the time Dad drove his friend's motorcycle off a cliff...or the time Grandma had to pick him up at a party because he had (temporarily) blinded himself. My sister and I can recite these chronicles word-for-word if called upon, but they're better told by the people that lived them. Besides, we'd rather listen anyway.Of course you've figured my Grandma never waivered. She's a strong, tough woman of her generation. Her experiences prepared her for life as a mother of crazies, and I'm sure my Dad prepared her for a stint as a California parole officer. There was the one time a disgruntled parolee said he was going to come into the office and blow everyone away, so the entire office decided to start packing. Packing heat, that is. Grandma bought a snub-nose .38 special. Thankfully she never had to use it.