As an adult, I find myself to be highly gullible. You could tell me that the word gullible is written on the ceiling, and I wouldn't hesitate to look. I think it is derived from a childhood of fierce imagination. I blame my grandpa for this. In my younger childhood years, I spent the majority of my time at my grandparents' house. Still too young to attend school, my parents would drop me off in the mornings to be babysat while they worked during the day. It was here that I developed qualities and memories that I would continue to carry on with me forever.
My grandpa was a wiry force of energy, seldom seen without a beer or cigarette in his hand. He was old, and his deep wrinkles, the aftermath of smoking countless packs of cigarettes per day, seemed to carve a map of his life on his still agile and mobile facial features. His hair was soft and silver, always neatly combed to the side. His twinkling eyes were framed by thick grey eyebrows, and his chin had a stubble of grey whiskers. His bright, blue eyes shone in the daylight as his few remaining teeth dazzled with a fresh white gleam. His pride and joy, The Pocket Sandwich Theater, was a small dinner theater he opened with a friend in the 1980s. This is where he spent most of his time. It was rare to visit the theater without catching him standing in the corner, dressed in a plaid shirt he owned in every color combination possible, Bud Light in hand. In appearance, he was nothing special, but when he opened his mouth, it was euphoric and angelic, like hearing a bird sing for the first time. It was often heard in his singing or acting. He would never hesitate to jump on stage and transform into a character. His stated goal for the theater was "I want people to leave a show feeling better than when they came in." He used the same motto for his personal interactions. He showed everyone he met respect, genuine concern, and caring. As a result, he never lacked friends. Over the years at the Pocket, he became "Papa Joe" to many actors, directors, techies, waiters, and kitchen employees who adopted him as a surrogate parent. This acceptance did not mean that he would condone any and all behavior. His withering look or a measured "stop being so damn stupid!" has stopped many a grown person in his or her tracks. He loved to flirt, he loved to complain about the stupidity of our world, and he loved to argue. I witnessed all of these versions of him firsthand, but it was his behind the scene silly and imaginative version that was my favorite.
One early morning, my parents dropped me off, just like any other day. My grandpa and I started off the morning as we usually did. We sat and watched cartoons as my grandma got ready for work. "No Tremors!" she would say, and I would hide back my giggles as my grandpa nodded, agreeing not to watch the scary worm movie with his 4-year-old granddaughter. As she left, we walked her outside to...
