Tattoo Cool

My mom called me early this morning. I thought she was calling about last night's election results, so I started talking about the Clinton comeback. After a while she said that her father had died.
My grandfather was a bit ornery in his later years. He repeated rightwing slogans and he stopped talking to some people, like my mom and her brothers. But he called my mom on her birthday last month and they talked about family and the weather.

It was common for him to disappear as a disappointment then reappear as the person you were looking for.

A few weeks ago my mom was telling me about the time when we were in Mexico with Grandpa. I was about six at the time. Grandpa tried on a leather jacket at a store and became upset because it didn't fit over his bulging stomach. We quickly left Mexico, he dropped us off in Tucson, and 21 hours later he was back in Wisconsin, having drove straight through. If anyone has ever seen me have a panic attack inside a grocery store or outside a grocery store, for that matter, then you might better understand my behavior.

Tonight some of the reasons why I loved my grandfather reappear. He would make me laugh. He would hand me paperback books right after he finished them. He was tattoo cool with an anchor on his left arm, a lit cigarette between two fingers, and a stomach that stuck out of every jacket I saw him wear.