By Steve Magelli Jr.

I’ll always remember a time when I was I college and went down to see Grandma and Grandpa Magelli.

Grandpa was in the nursing home in Gillespie, so it must have been shortly before he died.

I stopped to see him on Friday evening. When I got there, he was very upset.

I was finally able to determine what the problem was. It was spring and the “spongy”, or morel, mushrooms were ripe. But he couldn’t go get them.

I told Uncle Gene about it. 

The next morning, Gene and I went through the field –across the highway from the house into the woods there–and picked three or four morels. 

I took them to Grandpa that afternoon and he got the biggest smile on his face you could ever imagine.

I’ll never forget it.