I found Johnny Milligan , and right away I wished I hadn’t looked so hard.

I was at my dad’s and he was thinking about the old times like old men do, and he got to thinking about Johnny Milligan . He wondered where he was, what he was doing, if there was any way to call him and catch up. So I pulled out my phone and googled him.

Sure enough, there was John Milligan of Williamson NY. The internet told me when he was born, it told me about his businesses. There was an address in Florida, an article about when he remarried and some links to family.

And then, there was an obituary.

That’s when I wished me and my phone weren’t so smart.

I had found my dad’s friend and he was dead.

I didn’t tell my dad that part.

See the name Johnny Milligan doesn’t mean much to you, but in my house growing up, it was legendary. The stories my dad told were better than any book or show when I was a kid.

Frank Montondo, Ben Minier, and Johnny Milligan grew up together in Pultneyville in the depression, but the adventures they shared always amazed me. Hunting and fishing, where now there are houses. Walking or hitch hiking to Williamson to see a movie at the theater that is now an abandoned Chinese restaurant. Going to school and then working til dark after for what today would be an insult to minimum wage workers, but made them feel like they were rich. Stories of raising hell and having good clean fun in a much simpler time.

They grew up and went different ways, but stayed friends, even if they didn’t stay connected.

Johnny Milligan was a successful business man who moved away, but never left my dads mind.

Ben Minier had passed away a few years ago, so Johnny Milligan was all my dad had left, and he didn’t know where he was, and now I had found him.

How do you tell someone their friends are all gone? How do you take away that hope to talk about the old days with someone who was there?

I decided not to.

I played dumb with my smart phone and said I couldn’t find him. My dad’s not much for technology, but he’s about one of the smartest people I know. If he knew I was lying he didn’t let on. Maybe to hold on to that hope.

So what do I do with this? I asked him to tell the stories again.

Your family has these stories too, just different names, but important stories the same.

Maybe it’s mom or dad, or grandparents or an uncle, but you know the stories. Learn them, write them down, they’ll be gone soon if you don’t.

It’s said that the current generation is the most photographed ever, yet they don’t save the pictures on anything but a phone, so some day they might not have any.

How sad to not have pictures of your youth, but sadder for this generation to not learn and record the stories of the generations before them. It’s what made us what we are.

Print out some pictures and put them in a scrap book.

Take a real live pen and a notebook to your mom’s house and start talking to the older generations and write down what they say. Better yet, get them to write it while they still can. How precious those hand written notes will be one day.

Tell your kids to put away their smart phones when grandpa is talking and just listen.

That’s what I did. I put away my phone and just talked to my dad.

I asked him to tell me stories I had heard a hundred times.

I went back in time with him and enjoyed the moment.

Smart phones are great for being phones, and cheating at trivia in a bar, but they can’t replace the stories and wisdom of an old man.

And they can’t help you find what you really want.

I used mine to find Johnny Milligan, and right away I wished I hadn’t looked so hard.