it can't be right to die and never be remembered.

to never be known for who you really were.

to have lived, loved, had sons and daughters, and yet your grandchildren have no idea where that family is.

this past summer, my sister margie and i were going through some of the old things left from my dad's farmhouse after he moved to a retirement center. everyone else in the family, pretty much, had gone through the stuff so there wasn't a whole lot left. i found some treasures, but we stumbled on the key to someone who's been lost for 60 years.

my grandfather, Bill Chase.

we know nothing about him, except that he was a WWI veteran, and he died the year i was born.

i've been on his trail, and my grandmother's (his wife) trail, for years. but the trail had gone cold.

yet, this summer, in a tiny candy box wrapped with a rubber band, margie found the key to our past, in amongst the antique skeleton keys and old coins.

a service badge from the first World War.

from that one little clue, we have been able to trace some information and his military records, which are on order from Ottowa, Canada.

soon, i hope, we will be able to find some family.

to meet those who share our story.

to know who this man was, this brave soldier who was gassed in the trenches and spoke in a whisper for the rest of his life.

soon.