It is with the greatest of fondness that I quite often think back on my grandmother and grandfather. They have both been gone for some years now, and there are still days when I ache for their presence.
My grandmother was the spark plug of the family. An old-country, old-school, laced-up, million-mile-a-minute dynamo who spoke multiple languages and always kept the family knit together.
My grandfather was another story altogether. Giddo (grandfather, when one is of Lebanese descent) was first and foremost a certified genius. Chess champion, voracious reader, college professor, photographic memory – the man was amazing.
And also very easily bored.
It is that last trait, his easy boredom, that caused many hilarious moments in their home. You see, he was also a war veteran, and his tenure on the battlefield had resulted in him being rendered very nearly deaf. As such, my Giddo wore one of those old-fashioned, huge, prone-to-squeal hearing aids.