My great grandfather, a German by birth, raised a family in El Paso, Texas. He didn't allow whistling in the house.  His voice was stern, his words were chilling, and yet I couldn't wait to hear his stories.  Each night, after the table was cleared and our chores were done we would wait for him in the Great Room.  The Great Room was spacious, but well worn; the cluttered bookshelves held family heirlooms from my grandfather's modest beginnings. (to be continued...)