It was August 1992 when my Poppop died. I remember my Nanny gave me all his socks from his sock drawer. She said they were only slightly worn and I could get some use out of them. They were nice socks. There were a bunch of black and navy and brown. There was even a pair of bright emerald green socks that I delighted in wearing with outfits that didn’t match mainly as a tribute to Peter O’Toole. I wore the socks through college and I continued to wear them afterward. Wednesday, I pulled on a pair of his black socks and I noticed there was a big hole in the heel. I twisted the sock so the hole wasn’t so clearly evident and I went to work. That evening, I took off my Poppop’s socks and threw them into the garbage rather than the hamper. Over fifteen years of wear by me! I still have the green socks and a couple pairs of navy still in my sock drawer but it completely broke my heart to throw this last pair of black socks away. It seems insane but those socks have been with me on trips, in meetings, on interviews, at trainings, on hikes, tours, holidays, through Europe… just about everywhere and in connection, my Poppop has been there with me too. And now I say goodbye… to a great pair of socks.