This is an I-Heart podcast.

Guaranteed Human.

This is Lee Habib, and this is our American Stories,

the show where America is the star and the American people,

coming to you from the city where the West begins, Fort Worth, Texas. Up next, a story on a family tradition,

or rather a family talent, for Maureen Elwyn. Maureen is a writing student of our regular

contributor, Leslie Layland Fields. Let's get into the story. Take it away, Maureen.

His trembling voice shattered the stillness of the room like a baby's cry at night.

Play it again, buses. Only this time, sing it with me. I started the hymn again. My fingers trembling as the keys of the tiny chord organ came to life.

Tentatively reaching the chorus, I began to sing the familiar words.

And he walks with me and he talks with me.

Softly at first, my grandfather joined his voice with mine in simple, sweet harmony, gaining

strength and volume with each new note and word he sang.

I could hardly believe my 16-year-old ears.

Thank you. year old ears. My maternal grandfather was already an old man when I was born.

His body ravaged by years of Parkinson's disease.

He could no longer hold a fork or a cup.

He ate with a spoon and sipped his coffee through a glass straw. Having grown frustrated with his dentures after a dentist pulled all

of his teeth, he opted instead to remain toothless, gumming bread and butter, cereal, and soft

foods for most of his meals. I call this gentle soul

Daddy Dee, and he called me buses, his special name for the little girl kisses he loved.

My mother had often told me that during her schoolgirl years,

...