rooting around through some old shoe boxes, i came across this picture i drew of my grandfather, pumpy, when i was 14. and it made me smile. not only because it reminded me of his wonderful wavy white hair and the way he always sat with his legs crossed and a finger to his ear, but because he embodied everything kind and wonderful in the world.
he’d spend hours sitting in the family room with his electric shaver quietly buzzing around his cheeks. and he always smelled like ralph lauren polo cologne. and he said things like “son of a gun” and “thanks a million” and always pronounced the word “fellow” like “fulah.” and he could never take his eyes off of my grandmother deedles and he called her “miska” and he called me “poots” (don’t ask) and i miss being called that every day of my life.
how lucky i am to live in a world with a grandfather as wonderful as he was.