Fly Through the Revolution

I don’t think much about loneliness until loneliness sits down next to me and orders drinks on my tab.

Grandpa: Domy!

Only Grandpa and Scout call me that. I will punch anyone else who tries it.

Grandpa: Thank you for the Father’s Day Card!
Tata: I love you! It’s the least I can do.
Grandpa: I won’t use it, though, until I pay off this other credit card.
Tata: It’s a gift card, Grandpa. You can get 35 pair of socks, if you want to!
Grandpa: What did you say, dear?
Tata: You can buy all of Sears’ sock department, Grandpa, it’s a gift card.
Grandpa: Yes, dear, but I don’t want to get in trouble with it. Just because I have it doesn’t mean I’ll use it.
Tata: Well…okay.

He hates when I buy him presents. I gave him basil plants and he made Mom take them. It was too extravagant a gift. Seems like a problem you’d solve with marinara sauce but my solutions may be simplistic.

Grandpa: Where’s your mother? Do you know where she went?
Tata: She’s gone to Maryland for my cousin Monday’s wedding.
Grandpa: What did you say, dear?
Tata: She’s gone to Maryland for a wedding.
Grandpa: What town? Do you know what town, in case the guys down at the Vets ask?
Tata: Frederick, Maryland. I’m going tomorrow.
Grandpa: Oh, thank you, Domy! And you’re going tomorrow! Ha ha!

When Grandpa’s done talking he’s done. If he’s already said goodbye and you say, “One more thing – ” expect the next sound to be a dial tone. He hangs up on Mom twice a day at least.

Tata: I love you, Grandpa!
Grandpa: Talk to you soon!
Tata: Talk –

Click. He’s a very old man who goes to the Veterans of Foreign Wars post, of which he is a founding member, every day at four for two beers. He is worshipped by the younger members, which I have seen with my own eyes. He has a lot of friends. People take him hither and yon, care for him and cook for him. Mom monitors his doings with an iron will from four states away. I don’t know if he’s lonely. When he cheerfully hangs up on me I sure am.

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