I think my Poppi is turning into a dirty old man. Not like a “quick hide the prepubescents” dirty old man. But like a Handsy-Harry “lockup your Nanas” type dirty old man. And this development distresses me.

I’m just back from the sunshine state, after celebrating the old man’s 92nd Birthday. Happy Birthday, Poppi! Homeboy looks like he’s about 80 years old. My lord, that man’s genes should be studied. He’s tan, mobile, and mentally sharp. Sharp enough to chat about tranches of packaged and securitized mortgages–Zzz zzz z z. Sharp enough to not get stuck paying the bill at dinner. Sharp enough to know the difference between charming confidence and ballsy lechery.[ . . . ] Continue »

My 91-year-old maternal grandfather, Poppi, the widowed husband of The Dead Nana, may just be a geriatric G.* And this causes problems for some people.

* A “G” being defined as a Gangster.

I could set the scene with the whole,

My sister said, “Did Mom tell you yet?”

And I thought, “Someone is (1.) dead, (2.) in the hospital, (3.) gay, or (4.) in jail.”

But it was none of the above, and upon hearing the actual news, I gasped, “That’s amazing!”

[ . . . ] Continue »