Just a few days ago I stood next to the old pond where my grandpa and I spent so much time together.  Lots of memories.  Good ones.  I remember some of the catfish we pulled out of those waters, but mostly I just remember him.  His laugh.  His instruction.  And his constant patience with me. On this Memorial Day I am thinking about him more than ever.  He was the only grandpa that I had the privilege to know personally.  What I would give to sit under the old cherry tree in his front yard and just talk to him again.  There are so many things I failed to ask him about! I remember him as a sailor, a WWII…