Twenty seven years ago, the patriarch of our family passed. My Opa embodied the American Dream. He helped his family escape World War 2 Germany, ventured into Ottawa, Canada where he learned a trade (masonry) and worked to earn $1000, two things he needed to immigrate into America. . Knowing not a word of English, he taught himself with nightly trips to the grocery store, listening to women speak to one another. He started a little masonry company, one that my Dad would take over, who’s motto was “quality that lasts”- it would eventually grow into one of the largest in Southern California. . He had striking blue eyes, a boisterous laugh and a work ethic that would scare most people. All qualities I hope his namesake, my daughter, inherits. . Twenty seven years ago my Oma picked a gravesite 60+ miles from where anyone in our family lived. I don’t know why she picked it; we had no ties to the City of Orange, but nevertheless, he was buried in the hills; in the city I now call home. . To...