There are some adults in the world who manage to hold on to that child deep inside of them. That childs voice helps them find joy in the little things, remain curious about the world and show enthusiasm for everything around them. My Grandmama was one of these people. Thats why a day with Grandmama was always so exciting. You never knew what you were going to find. Her basement was a treasure trove of trinkets and memories, usually wrapped in a paper towel and secured with an elastic - always with a note (David, Christmas 1992). One day we spent an afternoon going through Grandpas desk drawers exploring all the exciting items in there. His address book where you pushed the button and it springs open, or some pens, pencils and rulers. Another day we played with their fancy stereo, watching the little needle on the sound dial go back and forth as you spoke into a microphone. Another evening was spent simply digging through her purse: Look Grandmama! Mints!, I said. Well lets eat them, she replied, already unwrapping hers. No matter what you did, it would be exciting, and you could be sure that Grandmama would be just as excited as you about it. She passed to me a love of gardening and a wonderment at seeing things spring forth from the ground. No matter how many times I plant my vegetable garden, Im always excited to see the first fruit growing on a plant, and I still talk to my plants just like she told me to. When you were out and about with her, she couldnt help but get involved in the lives of those around her. She was so curious that youd turn your head and she was off comforting a crying child or speaking to a parent. One time at the aerospace museum I turned my head to find her holding hands with a mother and child, praying. After she finished she rejoined us and I asked what she had said. She told me the child was misbehaving and so shed simply told him he should listen to his mother and then decided the three of them needed a nice prayer to smooth things over. When she wasnt getting involved with passersby, she was noticing things about them. That mans pants are very jazzy or So tall, must be a basketball player. The last memory Ill share is one of the strongest memories I have of Grandmama. When Dad lived on Coldrey Avenue, we were across from a schoolyard. One evening Grandmama was babysitting me and we went across the street to the schoolyard to play. She found a lid from a sour cream container and instantly said Look! Its a Frisbee! She started throwing it back and forth with me and we played with that container lid for probably an hour. That was her power. She could take a piece of garbage from the side of the road and turn it into a magical and fun event. Ill never forget all those moments of joy that my Grandmama gave me. And I wouldnt be surprised if somewhere in the basement of the house right now is that sour cream lid, wrapped neatly in a paper towel, with a note reading Matthew, Frisbee - 1999 secured to it with an elastic band. Thanks Grandmama, for everything.