Mama decided on her own that it was time to stop driving although we were all thrilled with the decision. At 84, eyesight and reactions aren't what they used to be. But, even we have to admit that it was almost worth the public safety hazard to see Mama at the wheel of the '77 Monte Carlo. Behind her back, we called it "The White Gondola."

You see, on her best day, Mama measured less than five feet tall so the Gondola was equipped with extenders on the brake and gas, a cushion at her back and a pillow to sit on. The padding put her chin just about even with the bottom of the window. All you saw as she tore down the road was her knuckles firmly gripping at 10 and 2 o'clock on the steering wheel, her jaw set with determination and her silver curls springing out from underneath her baseball cap. Yes, Mama wears a baseball cap.

Mama lost Daddy nearly 30 years ago but has stoically "gone on." Never once would she consider starting a life with someone else. "That's the last thing on my mind, she'd always announce. We rarely ever know what the first thing is. She can be sharp tongued, and is incredibly sharp witted, and loves a good story . . . . as long as she's the one telling it. Some of the stories are jewels and need to be recorded. That's the case with most of our elders: their lives were and are rich in history and events.

Just think of the change they've seen. From oil lamps, horse and buggies and a path to the bathroom to remote control lighting, the space shuttle and heated, indoor toilet seats. That's what this section is all about. Some of the stories here don't necessarily belong to Mama but do generate from other relatives. Many are hysterical and others will break your heart but they need to be remembered and they need to be told. So scan through and think about the grit that made them what they are . . . and us as well.