— It was a warm spring day, and my father, Robert Harris, was walking to the grocery store.
I didn’t know that this was a long-term trip.
I was just a little boy growing up in a small town in Pennsylvania, and I had my first big break when my dad started to travel around the country in the late 1950s.
His journey had been the same for a long time.
In those early years, he and his family had come to the New York City area for a time to visit relatives.
It was an important place for him to be and to have the opportunity to see all the sights, see the sights he’d seen so many times before, and to be part of something bigger.
I remember thinking to myself, This is going to be fun.
I loved the excitement of it all.
So when my parents finally returned to Philadelphia, it was an opportunity for me to travel all over the country.
In the late 1960s, Robert started traveling more frequently.
He went to the Chicago area for more family visits, but that was also the beginning of the end for my father.
By the early 1970s, my father was gone, leaving behind an almost totally shattered family.
He died of a heart attack on the weekend of May 6, 1978.
The next morning, a man drove up to his house and started shooting.
He was the only person who knew where he was and what happened.
He knew that the gunman was an acquaintance of my father’s, and he knew the killer was a local drug dealer.
It’s difficult to imagine how that would have happened if the man hadn’t been armed.
My father’s last words were, “You know, I don’t think you’ll ever know what it’s like to have to live like this.”
But I was fortunate to live a life that was blessed with a rich family history, which also included many wonderful grandchildren.
And so as time passed, I learned about my father through the memories of his children and grandchildren, and also through the stories that my father told me about his life and his time in life.
From the day he was born in 1949, Robert lived in the same house that he grew up in.
His family lived there for over 40 years, including my grandfather, who died in 1987.
And as he grew older, he began to visit his family in the city more frequently, so that he could spend more time with his grandchildren.
For me, he lived a life of adventure.
He would take me on hikes, play in the backyard, ride his motorcycle on the lake.
He loved to go to the movies, and sometimes he would take a little girl, who was his niece, with him.
He even took her to the beach with him and he had fun.
My grandmother and grandfather were wonderful people, and so was my father and my mother.
And my father never missed an opportunity to help his grandchildren, including in my life, when I was a child.
My dad and his grandchildren lived a very special life.
But I never thought about that for many years.
I always thought of my grandfather as a kind of a family man.
He always loved his family.
And that’s how I think about him.
But for me, I never really cared about him, and as I grew older and became a person of more understanding of my own life, I came to realize that he was someone who never got what he wanted.
He never got the chance to go into the world and experience what it was like to be a kid again.
He could only imagine the world that he had been able to see in his life, and that was a world where he had a better life.
He also had a wonderful family.
My mother is now 88 years old, and she’s an accomplished nurse.
And for her, she’s the life of the family.
I’ve always been very grateful to my mother for all that she did for me and my dad.
I never considered her as a person who would die, but as a loving and kind person.
I learned a lot from her.
My grandfather passed away in 2006, and after the death of his wife and their four children, Robert moved back to his hometown of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
He and his wife, Mary, had a son named David.
Robert, as he always did, was very active in the local community.
And because of the circumstances of his passing, he spent time visiting with his children, visiting with grandchildren and attending the funeral of his brother, who passed away just before his birth.
He had a lot of fun, too.
I grew up with my grandfather in the house that my mother and I shared.
He taught me how to sew.
He took me on horseback rides, and we rode through the woods together.
He used to come home and stay at my mom’s house. He lived