by Mark Zeiger

Created on: November 25, 2008   Last Updated: February 10, 2011

Grandma gave us a story before going away to a place in her mind where we could not follow; where Grandpa couldn't go, though he loved her dearly. The story concerns her mother. Maud, as she was known, loved a young man who went to work in a distant town. He wrote to her faithfully, it's believed, but someone intercepted his letters. Maud never received them. She was disappointed by the young man's apparent change of heart and lack of interest.

Eventually, she became engaged to another man. On her wedding day, a letter arrived from the missing gentleman, which wasn't intercepted. Maud read the letter once. Then, without a word, she burned the letter in the stove, and walked out to her wedding.

Today, intercepting a person's mail is a federal crime, as I imagine it was then. It gives me pause to think that I owe my very existence to a criminal! Had those letters not been stolen, Maud might have married the young man she loved. Instead, she married another man, starting the family that eventually led to me and beyond, to my greatly treasured daughter. Hopefully it will lead far, far into the future.

The string of consequences is mind numbing. But for a criminal, my dear Grandmother, who passed down this story, would never have been born. My father, my hero and friend, would not have lived. My sweet, eccentric brother and my handsome, fun-loving sister would not be. My daughter, my heart's delight, would never have lived. Three fine people, my Grandfather, my mother, and my wife would have had to find others to love, other families to join with, other lines to continue. The influence reaches beyond my direct line, to shape the lives of my uncle and aunt as well.

My grandmother's story reminds me of how inexorable, yet how fragile is the line of descent. To reflect that this chance set of circumstances created this family line is to stare into the face of infinity. If one considers what happened in light of what didn't happen, one must realize the vast unexplored possibilities of existence. It was a near miss for me and mine, but a complete miss for all the untold other possible outcomes.

In considering these possibilities, I shudder to contemplate the non-existence of my family. I can be philosophical about my own existence, not that I wouldn't miss it, but the world would be a poor place without these fine people. They enrich my life so much that life without them is unthinkable.

But what about Great Grandma Maud? I'm content with the choices my grandmother,

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