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THE FAMILY GIFT
by Greg Archer
I have come to believe that the best gifts arrive unwrapped. No curly ribbons. No bows. No tags.
No warnings.
I received my 2003 Christmas present early this year. Actually, I first held it in my hands in the
fall of 2002. It was a floppy disk my Uncle John had sent to me from Chicago, where he lives and where
I was raised. There was a note: "Here it is Greg ... I wrote something about our family. Take a look."
I did. I read a few paragraphs, felt some odd emotional stirring within and quickly stored the story on
my laptop, where it would be safe, and, more importantly as I would later discover, where it would be hidden.
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