Our family lost a good one recently. Elenka's Dad passed away in Florida, and we headed south for the service. Steve was born in Kosariska, Czechoslovakia on September 18, 1921, climbed the beachhead at Normandy, married the love of his life Anna in 1947 and raised two beautiful daughters. He was a man of few words but always wise. When we told her parents that we planned to get married, all he said to me was, "What took you so long?" He was not an easy man for me to get to know, but our mutual love of a good, cold, draft beer and the game of baseball sealed the deal. When we bought this antique cape, her parents traveled to Maine each summer and worked long and hard on helping us to restore this home. As I walk from room to room, I can see his 'mark' that he left with us. The summer porch, the windowseats, the reconstructed mantle, the exposed ceiling beams were just a few of the places he toiled and sweated for us. And when he wasn't laying a rug, painting a wall, sanding a floor, he was giving us ideas and techniques to use to make this old farmhouse our own. He'll not be forgotten. The hard part for me though will be, when we head down to Florida this spring, I'll be probably be sitting alone evenings, sipping a beer in a darkened Florida room, watching a baseball game. It's going to take some getting used to. Till we meet again.