Megan

Gilbert isn’t my grandpa. Not by blood or by marriage. But by any other measure of the word, he might as well be. I grew up sitting around fires in his backyard and riding scooters to Carrow’s with him in tow. And I know an entire generation of fellow Pierpont Elementary alumni who would describe him as thus: always only a friendly wave and a beaming smile away. Because Gilbert is community. He and I may have seen the tests of time and distance over the years, but I always know that when we do have a chance encounter, and he asks how I am and I say “Good,” and I ask how he is and he says, “Good,” then I know all is well in the world for a little while longer.

Thanks for letting me be a part of this!