One of my earliest memories was when mom and dad would take me to the zoo, where we’d ride the train. I think my grandfather was there. I’m not sure. I don’t remember much of him. Every few years, we’d meet together at the zoo, looking at all the changes to exhibits, new animals, cages replaced with glass walls or open roaming areas. The train gets polished up, repainted. We took my kids there. We’d ride, look around. So many changes, so many things stay the same. The monkeys, the giraffes, the lions. The memories, as we all ride on.