Letters

Some of the best letters I have ever received were from my grandfather. And yes, that is what we called him -- Grandfather. I give him that moniker as the first grandchild on my mom's side of the family. And I must have know, as a tiny child, that the name Grandfather suited him so well.

Grandfather would write us a typed letter on our birthdays. Each letter looked pristine -- crisp white paper with a watermark and his name and address printed at the top. They would be neatly folded in thirds. Inserted inside each birthday letter would be a savings bond, usually for $50 or maybe $100. 

The letters themselves contained beautiful, creative prose, usually about how astonishing it was that we had gotten so old, and about how feeble Grandfather was getting (he was anything but). His letters were humorous, assumed that we would understand his jokes and his vocabulary. He did write down to us in any way.

One phrase which I remember in particular came in a letter when I was a bit older, perhaps in college or even later. Grandfather told me about a visit with my mom, and that she had made him his very favorite pie, mincemeat. He called it "the very emperor of all pies." John and I still chuckle over that phrase and his obvious delight in language. And in mincemeat pie.