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I just re-found this, so I'll share it here as well. This is my grandpa the newspaper editor at his desk in Lemon Grove, Calif. circa... 1965, I think. As you can see, I got my organizational skills from him. 
My mom and dad worked there at various points as well, and my gramps babysat me amid the linotypes when my mom was going to school. I would probably have been way smarter if I hadn't spent my days in a miasma of photo developer and lead scraps from the linotype.
At some point, he developed Alzheimer's and started doing weird things. One day I found out that he had taken forty years' worth of historic old newspapers, those big bound collections, and thrown them all away. Said they were cluttering things up. I managed to save some of them.
They live happily in the Lemon Grove Historical Society building now. I'm glad I was able to intervene. Anyway, before all that, things were already weird. We had this family friend who he would write about sometimes. Her son moved to Hollywood to be a big star. I remembered her,
but not her name, which as it turns out was Marjorie. I never met her son Dennis, so I didn't think about it much. At some point I found out their last name: Hopper. Yes! That one! And everyone acted like this was totally normal lol
He died in 1999. I'm a little sad he didn't live long enough to see the way my career turned out. He always did say women shouldn't be journalists.
