Dear Liz,
My grandfather died while I was reading This Never Happened. He was a traditional man—he liked sitting on front porches and he believed “Sure” was an unacceptable answer to a question because every question deserved a “Yes” or a “No.” During every holiday get-together, the matriarch of the family, his aunt and my great-great aunt, always led us in prayer. Every Christmas, he gave every family member a single two-dollar bill with the year written in red scrawl. I’m sorry to say I’ve misplaced many of these bills.