Unfortunately, we didn't get to know Paul and Ingrid Crum too well. Paul retired to a small, log cabin in the woods of Montana and a hermit's life. We visited him only once that I know of. But I do remember the visit - even as young as I was. It was very special and I am so glad Mom took us to meet him. Ingrid went to California to be with her youngest daughter, Betty, who needed her. I first met Ingrid just before she died. But I met her. And I am glad I did, even though she was no longer Mom's mom.

The memories I have more of are visiting Paul's grave in the military cemetery at Custer National Battle Field. It was his choice for his burial site and is an amazing place. With tales to tell. As was he.

If only I had known to ask way back then.

We did get to know Ole and Sissel very well. We visited them at least once a year and they came through once a year on their way to camping in Yellowstone Park. Or they took the three of us, their Montana grandchildren, to Yellowstone Park for short vacations. We learned a lot from them: how to speak English with a flawless, heavy Norwegian accent, how to garden (though this was something we apparently all absorbed from rather than were taught by Ole), how to make 7-Up Floats, how to giggle, and, by example, how not to drive down the middle of the road centering on the middle divider line. Stoic Norwegians and very good people. Ole, however, was more stoic than Sissel: she loved to laugh and sing and bake. And she was so happy to have grand-daughters after raising two boys.

And now we've grown and live in separate corners of the world...