He is tall with dark gray hair. And his eyes are sharp blue even though they are not sharp seeing. I exercise with Grandpa. Then I try to exercise with my eyes closed. I am still on one, two when Grandpa is on three, four. Grandpa laughs as he hears my thumps on the carpet.

He bends his head close to mine. We go into the kitchen.

Picture Books to Read with Grandma & Grandpa On Grandparent’s Day

He loves guessing games. I love guessing games.


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All the smells mix together in the air. He tunes our cellos without looking. I play with a music stand and music before me. I know all about sharps and flats. I see them on the music.

Dirty Grandpa - Wikipedia

But Grandpa plays them. They are in his fingers. My fingering hand slides up and down the cello neck—toward the pegs for flats, toward the bridge for sharps. But with my eyes closed my bow falls from the strings. It was my favorite. That is the way Grandpa learns new pieces. While she works, Grandpa takes out his piece of wood. His fingers move back and forth across the wood, making smooth paths like the ones on the stair banister. Grandpa reaches in his shirt pocket and tosses a small bit of wood in my direction.

It is smooth with no splinters. Grandpa nods a short nod. Did you hear the gurgling in the rain gutter? When Nana is finished working, Grandpa runs his hand over the sculpture, his fingers soft and quick like butterflies. My eyes have already told me that it looks like Grandpa. But he shows me how to feel his face with my three middle fingers, and then the clay face. My waterfall fingers flow down his clay head, filling in the spaces beneath the eyes like little pools before they flow down over the cheeks.

It does feel like Grandpa. This time my fingers tell me. Grandpa and I walk outside, through the front yard and across the field to the river. Grandpa has not been blind forever. But he gently takes my elbow as we walk so that I can help show him the path. I can tell which way the wind is blowing because I see the way the tops of the trees lean.

Grandpa tells by the feel of the meadow grasses and by the way his hair blows against his face. When we come to the riverbank, I see that Nana was right. The water is high and has cut in by the willow tree.

It flows around and among the roots of the tree, making paths. I see a blackbird with a red patch on its wing sitting on a cattail. Without thinking, I point my finger.

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But he hears the song of the bird. Nana calls from the front porch of the house. My granddads old saying about men who cheat on their wives with another woman "If the bitch didn't wag her tail the dog wouldn't follow. Originally Posted by UkChris When him and my grandma were newlyweds they went shopping for furniture in a furniture store. My grandma lost sight of my gradpa and started looking for him. She found him in a corner behind a couch or something squatting down pretending to take a dump. My Grandpa almost died fighting on battleships in WW2. All I know is he saw his friend's head get blown off, among many other deaths.

He has never said a word about the war, or anything related to it. He doesn't tell stories. My other Grandpa died when I was 7. Originally Posted by MaximusPlatypus. My grandfather is full of 'em, this is my favorite.

Abe Simpson Compilation