My ex-wife’s grandfather, a millionaire, was often surrounded by family members seeking his wealth, but I only wanted my kids to know him. When he invited us to his Minnesota lake house for the summer, my ex-wife thought I was after his money. I just wanted memories for my kids. We drove eight hours, singing and storytelling. Grandpa Orville welcomed us warmly, teaching the kids to fish, whittle, and watch sunrises. We shared stories by the campfire, and he opened up about his life, including his Korean War experiences. My ex-wife briefly visited, flaunting her wealth, but Orville valued time over money. When he fell and hurt his ankle, the
kids cared for him, making it his “best week.” At summer’s end, he gifted the kids his coin collection, each with a story. After his passing, he left most of his wealth to a children’s hospital and the lake house to a veterans’ group. My kids cherish his letters and coins, shaping their kind, empathetic natures. We volunteer at the lake house yearly, honoring Orville’s legacy. That summer taught us that love and memories, not money, are the greatest inheritance.
