He was the kind of guy to lend a hand to anyone, offer our cabin as a safe place, and give the shirt off his back. Having this simple but yet ineffable blanket is something that I will never let go of; it gives me hope when things aren’t going my way, gives me joy when I’m sad, and picks me up off my feet when I am mournful. At home we used to have this large fake deer for target practice. I named it Bambi and would feed it bologna every day. At night my grandpa would go out and throw the bologna away, so I thought Bambi actually ate it. When I went to daycare he would pick me up from the big white house in town with his white van. Right before we got home I would pretend to sleep so he would carry me in the house and wrap me up with the Vikings blanket on the couch. Back then three of me could fit under the