Grandchildren,
  As I was going about some business tonight in my attic, I stumbled upon a box full of youthful memories: old favorite books, letters from old friends, and newspaper clippings I had scribbled comments on--all from years ago.
  I enjoyed looking over these things, but after a few minutes, they were returned to the old brown box, to be once again put away. There was one memory retrieved, though, that I feel must not be kept in a box--a pile of pages from an old journal entry; covered in pictures from one of the most significant trips of my life.
  Something deep down inside of me was whispering, "Pass this on!"...