As I grow a little bit older, I've begun to realize what most people my age start to.
There are now people in our past that have gone on to a better place and we are left with just the memories of them.
Memorial Day can start to really take meaning on all levels of personal importance.
I reflect on memories of my grandmothers, aunt, and my grandfather.
"Gramps" I called him and he was my main man.
I named my son after him and he wears the name proudly.
I'll admit, sports captivate my soul.
It's the ultimate and only legitimate "reality" TV there is.
Gramps had a lot to do with this passion.
He usually had the Kansas City Royals' games on in the car and would tell me of the time he and his friends drove to St. Louis to watch the Cardinals play the Yankees in the 1942 World Series.
He also told me many stories about his favorite players Dizzy and Daffy Dean.
We kicked it almost every Sunday in his backyard and watched the Kansas City Chiefs' game on his little television.
I was with him as we watched the 1985 Royals win the World Series and he was the first one I...
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