ME: Who’s that, Grammy?
GRAMMY: That’s your grandfather.
ME: No it’s not.
GRAMMY: Okay. It’s not. Because you know who I slept with better than I do. Geez, Barbara, take a look at your father. Take a look at yourself. Where do you think those cheekbones came from? And those eyes?
ME: But then - who was Grampa Joe?
GRAMMY: The man I married. Who else? Your father needed a father and Grampa Joe fit the bill. He was a good man, your Grampa Joe. You should see about getting a man like him for Julius.
ME: I’m not going to marry someone just to give Julius a father. Besides, he already has one.
GRAMMY: A shame, isn’t it. Well, I suppose we could always hire a hit man.
Photo - Library of congress
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