Friday, March 20, 2009
March 20 My Irish Grandfather
It's only appropriate I honor my Irish Grandfather this week. He died 42 years ago on the day before St. Patrick's Day. If you read the header of my blog, you know he's the one who would would ask my mom "does he still shit in his pants?" and be referring to me as a baby. I can't say I remember him except from stories and pictures. Except for one thing, I told my mom I remember walking down a street in NYC with him holding my hand. She says she doesn't think that it ever happened. Maybe I dreamed it, who knows. But I do have a vivid mental picture of it. From the stories I've heard about him, I know I would have liked him. I also like to think he'd get a laugh from some of my Christmas letter stories and this blog. Heredity is a strange thing, it's possible I got my sense of humor from someone I do not remember. I know asking if a baby still shits in his pants is funny. I assume he laughed when he said it because I do. So this one's for you Grandpa, over the years I've learn to control that shit problem, for the most part at least.