It's amazing how much influence one person can have on a child's life. Looking back, I'm fairly certain that without my grandfather, I probably would not have an Etsy shop or even be the same person that I am today. So my "story" is also my personal thank you to someone very special.

During my childhood, I spent a lot of time in my grandparents' home. My grandfather was born in the late 1800s and was actually old enough to be my great-grandfather. He was an Alabama teacher who later moved to Kansas City and opened an office supply company. He ended up falling in love with and marrying his young secretary.

Since I was a child of the 50s and 60s, my own home was mid-century modern with lots of plastic and chrome! My grandparents' home fascinated me. There were heavy velvet draperies, oriental carpets and pocket doors that could be pulled out of and hidden in the walls.

My grandfather loved to read and kept all of his books in barrister bookcases. I enjoyed lifting up the door and choosing a book to read. I especially loved the slim volumes with gilded edges, embossed covers and illustrations protected by thin pages of tissue. My favorites were Hiawatha, Evangeline and Poe's poetry.

I also explored all the nooks and crannies of his huge oak roll-top desk as well as the tall stationery cabinets. They had lots of narrow drawers, filled with pencil leads, fountain pen nibs, colored carbon paper, onionskin and ink.

The deep drawers of a giant buffet held his collection of scrapbooks: whenever he ran into something in the paper or magazine that he found interesting he'd paste it (water & flour). Those books ranged from major world events to ones with old Ripley's Believe or Not columns.

There was an antique Victrola with doors that opened. Inside were stacks of thick old 78 rpm records, with artists like Al Jolson and Caruso as well as strange songs like "Mairsy Doats" and "Grandma's Lye Soap". Best of all was the storage locker down in the basement. It was jammed with trunks, boxes and all sorts of treasures. Since they lived through the depression years, that locker probably held more history than I was aware of at the time.

What amazes me is that he allowed me to play and explore and never once (that I can remember) told me not to touch something because it was breakable, valuable or belonged to him. He especially loved teaching me things. My mother vetoed our shorthand and algebra lessons. But he did teach me to work crosswords in ink. He also taught me how to type and let me use his old Underwood typewriter to write my little stories and poems.

I can't help but believe that my grandfather's books and the trips we made to the public library turned me into a major reader (and book hoarder)! That Victrola and those old records began my love affair with music. I have bookshelves filled with my 45 rpm record collection (over 10,000 at last count).

The scrapbooks, the freedom to explore all fed into a child's normal curiosity and I'm sure eventually led me on the path to hunting for treasures in antique and thrift stores, flea markets and garage sales. And as much as I enjoy the find itself, my favorite part is the chance to research something that I know nothing about. I KNOW that came from him! Every day is an adventure and every day I learn something new.

Since I can't keep all of my finds, this shop was born. Without my grandfather's influence, though, I probably wouldn't even have an Etsy shop which is why this shop is dedicated to him. He wrote a little book of essays and poetry that included a special poem for me titled "When Beverly Comes to Grandpa's House". As I re-read that poem today, I realize that I've never really changed. I hope that--just like him--no matter how old I get, there will still be a curious little kid inside. And if anyone knows where my little stuffed lamb is (see photo), please contact me!

If you've gotten this far without being bored to tears, then you'll love this last part. It's a true story that still gives me chills. Several years ago, I gave the last copy I owned of my grandfather's book to my son. I knew the library had a copy. Since I was sure that only a family member would be interested in it, I planned on "losing" it and paying for it. Too late, I discovered that it was in a special genealogy section and couldn't be checked out.

I searched online for a copy, begged the library to sell me their copy and finally had to give up. The very next day (true story), I walked into our local Goodwill store. Almost always, I will go through the entire store. But for some strange reason on that day, I walked in and went straight to the books, scanned them quickly and left the store. Totally unlike me! I was about halfway out their front door when it hit me that I had just seen my grandfather's book on one of the shelves. I walked back and there it was! In the entire 40+ years that I've been doing this, I've never run into another one. The first thing I did when I returned home was email the librarian to tell her about this very strange coincidence. She responded with one word, "Synchronicity". Sure makes you wonder, doesn't it? Thank you, Grandpa!