My Grandfather

I loved my grandfather as a child and I still love him many years after he has been gone. He was a male role model for me when I frankly was not seeing much positive in the men around me. My grandfather was not a rich man or a highly intelligent man, but he had a great sense of humor and he was a loving man with a kind heart. He worked all day standing at a cash register in an auto parts store and came home tired and in pain from his job. I remember him soaking his feet in a bucket of water when he came home and when it was dinner time he ate the slop my Grandmother cooked up without ever complaining in fact he gave her high praise for her efforts. When we were at dinner or at a family function he would always tell funny stories about growing up in THE GREAT DEPRESSION, which was ironic because people were literally starving to death and my Grandfather came from a poor family and had two brothers. When my Grandmother died my Grandfather was lonely and became hurt when a wealthy woman used him as the flavor of the week then dumped him for another man. Eventually, my Grandfather had an epic love affair with a woman who moved upstairs who had survived the Holocaust and emigrated from the Soviet Union. I soon had a hard time recognizing my Grandfather as he started speaking another language and focused more of his life on his new love affair. I resented my grandfather for this until he died and I spoke briefly with the woman he loved and realized how beautiful it was that they had this relationship so late in life and I felt ashamed at my attitude. I try to be like the man my grandfather was and show humor and love. My grandfather used to joke about stealing the screws and bolts from elevators and other machinery during the Great Depression and when he died he was not shitting us as he had tons of coffee containers filled with screws and bolts hidden throughout his apartment. I guess you could say he had a few screws loose, but he was a great guy in my book. If you ever hear about an elevator falling down the shaft in New York City that might have been due to my Grandfather, but I'll never tell.