After my grandmother died, my mother learned that my grandfather, Jimmy Wood- my namesake, was not her father. In fact, she soon discovered that there was no record of my grandparents ever actually being married. It was a secret that went with them to the grave.

This news did not sit well with Mom. She spent the rest of her life researching her family's past. Genealogy was suddenly a major passion for her. She hooked up with the Mormons, who, in case you didn't know, are like the superstars of genealogy research. She spent a lot a time at the Family History Center over near Adams Hill searching their databases, and even took a trip to Salt Lake City, Utah to do more of the same.

Mom really honed her computer skills in the process of digging through our family's mysteries. I know it drove my father nuts that she spent so much time sitting in the front room working on it. But she never let him stop her. She searched social security and census records. She joined and used several different genealogy websites. And, she networked with hundreds of other people through email. As her first computer teacher, I was absolutely blown away by her savvy with a keyboard.

The work paid off for Mom. She got pretty far back on her mother's side of the family. I was surprised to hear that Grandmom's mother had come from a very wealthy Massachusetts family. Some distant cousin from up there, whom we obviously never knew existed, sent Mom a photocopy (Can we still say that?) of an old 1800s photograph of her great grandmother. Mom was so excited, she dragged Dad on a trip to Chicopee, Massachusetts to visit cemeteries and do grave rubbings of her kinfolks a few years before she died.

That trip was one of their last long "wanders". After Dad retired from the military and his "double dip" in Civil Service, they were on the road about fifty percent of the time. They never flew because Mom didn't like to. They just drove from place to place, staying with friends and family along the way, or renting rooms in little "Mom and Pop" motels. I was always jealous listening to their travel tales. I'm convinced that's why I'm so in love with the whole travel trailer concept now. I inherited their wanderlust.

That trip was also miraculous. At least I consider what happened miraculous. What happened on their way home from Virginia is truly amazing. You see, they stopped for gas somewhere in North Carolina. While Dad was pumping the gas, Mom went inside to use the restroom and buy him a cup of strong coffee for the road. Then, while he was in the restroom, her eyes got caught on a big box full of old photographs that were for sale at one dollar a piece.

The photographs were old studio portraits from around the turn of the century. Oh snap...that phrase doesn't work anymore. Okay... I'm talking about the late 1800s and the early 1900s here. Anyway, I don't know why Mom was interested in them. They were photos of strangers. Who would buy other people's portraits at any price? Besides, my mom and dad wouldn't part with a nickle on something silly like that.

So anyway, Dad comes to Mom and says he is ready to get on the road. She brushes him off and keeps looking at photos for a few more minutes. Suddenly, she stops shuffling through the photos and shouts, "Barry! Come here! You won't believe this!" When he gets to her she shoves one of the photos in his face. Dad looks at it, and in his "your torquing my jaws" voice (You would have to have known Dad to get that.), asks, "So?" To which she excitedly tells him that it is the same photo of her great grandmother that the cousin I mentioned had sent her a copy of.

Dad was absolutely convinced that Mom had lost it that day. They bickered and cajoled about it all the way back to San Antonio. I would love to have been there when Mom triumphantly held both matching photos up in front of Dad and shut him up for good. But, then= can you blame him for being doubtful? How amazing was finding that one particular photo at a random gas stop?

Now, I believe that things like that happen for a reason. Not too long after Mom died, I got an email from that Massachusetts cousin with a huge PDF copy of his genealogy book about the family attached. It was amazing. Even my kids are in there. Anyway, he had put a copy of the miracle photo in it, which prompted me to send him an email telling him the tale I just told you. He was surprised to hear it, and asked if I would be willing to give it to him for a family archive he was working on.

Well, looking for that photo led me to my garage. I know it is in there somewhere in the pile of stuff I brought over from the house after Dad died. Unfortunately, I haven't found it, yet. But, in searching for it on and off, I keep coming across other treasures hiding in the pile. Maybe that whole photo miracle was put in gear just to lead me in to the garage to find stuff. There has to be some reason. Things like that don't just happen! What do you think?