The first time our family met Brother Grove was at Christmas. We went caroling here and there around the ward with the choir, and his house was one of the ones on our list. We went around back, knocked on the basement apartment door, and greeted him with a song. He asked us to sing White Christmas, and then talked for a minute or two, mostly about his recently departed wife, Beverly. He seemed so sad. So Nate and I decided, heck, we have no family close by to visit, so we'd better come back and see this guy sometime. So that's what we did. We showed up at his door unannounced, with kids in tow one Sunday afternoon, introduced ourselves, and he invited us inside. The first few visits were pretty awkward. But we kept on going back, and he kept on welcoming us. We became good friends. He had the craziest stories about flying the F4U in World War II, meeting his wife on a bus when two jerks took her sandwich, growing up in Kansas, hippies, black panthers, teaching at Weber S...