For as long as I can remember my parents have had two Megilot Esther in their home. Neither was new, but one was far older than the other. Of course, the newer one was easier to use and read; it was beautiful with large clear letters. It was the one we used almost every year to follow the reading of the Megila in Shul. The other one was older with some letters a bit blurred. The old parchment didn't always obey the reader and tried to roll up of its own accord. But aside from the words written on it, this Megila had another fascinating story to tell: It was the Megila of my great grandfather - my father's father's father.
My grandfather left Europe dur