2001:August:20
8.20.2001

Last night, at Adam's uncle's house near Canada's Wonderland, there was a BBQ. We picked up the zaidie (grandpa) from the hospital on the way. He had these plastic showercaps on his feet cuz he has that diabetic gangrene thing happening.
The BBQ was for the 6'8 cousin who is leaving on a basketball scholarship in Vermont. As soon as we got there, the golf game was turned on and most of the men glued their buts to the ersatz leather sofa and their eyes to the 32' T.V.
I got my ass kicked by an 10-yr old at ping-pong in the reckroom. You know how it goes.
Is there anything that tests your communication skills more than trying to explain the internet to our grandparents' generation?

I ate my corn and steak next to Zaidie, who, when I asked if he knew my street, said: "Know it? I built it." At one point, this grandfather who had always been known to be a selfish, disagreeable man, put down his shaking steak knife (later we cut his steak for him) and his eyes began to water. "I don't want to leave," he said.

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