I've Always Called Him 'Grandpa'

Nov. 23, 2008 — -- Read Kate's story below, then use the comment section at the bottom of the page to tell "GMA" whom you are most thankful for this holiday season.

Roger Pershing Snow was born in 1918. Some call him Roger, or Persh, or R.P. I've always called him Grandpa.

And Grandpa is a storyteller.

My entire life, he has always woven these fantastic tales. Hunting and fishing were recurring themes.

"That moose there was so big," Grandpa says pointing to an old photo in which he's hoisting antlers in the air, "I had to dress it out and then we had to haul it out by horseback, piece by piece."

But most of the best stories were about adventures and misadventures -- flying his planes around rural Minnesota, teaching my grandmother to drive back in Sleepy Eye (she may or may not have put a hole in the garage door once), or taking the horses on a trail ride in South Dakota.

The Snows owned chicken hatcheries throughout Minnesota and grandpa retired young. He's had a lot of time for adventures.

My father compares the stories to the ones in the movie "Big Fish." They were always so vivid and over-the-top.

Now I have a confession.

Sometimes Grandpa's stories went on a little long. As kids, my brother and sister and I would sometimes take turns sitting in the family room with Grandpa, doing duty. If Barb or Josh walked in then -- tag, they were it. And I'd leave.

Funny how now, all these years later, I'd give anything to sit for hours in that room.

Earlier this year, Grandpa had to move from a home he owned into a Sunrise Assisted Living Community.

Like a lot of 90-year-olds, he's losing his memory. He struggles to remember the last hour, last week, last year. It's what doctors call dementia, probably the earliest stages of Alzheimer's disease.

When I visited him last week at his new home, he proudly showed me his room.