"my grandfather is a proud sort of man. not a bragger but a man who shows off every achievement he ever achieved with pictures to prove it. yet he is no bragger in his mind. he is the sort of man who frequently announces, when you are talking about your vacation to Switzerland
"yes, I went there. Lovely. So clean. I went there. I saw everything, I did nearly everything. I talked with people. I have pictures to prove it, a whole stack"
my grandfather only speaks one language, a language of a small country that few people who are not natives of the country speak. Yet he manages to make conversation in every country he visits.
his passion is english. he owns 5 english dictionaries and if you wait a moment, he will run and get them to show you. He will make mistakes and once you correct him he will say
"yes, thats what I said. exactly so."
He will ridicule you for not speaking of your knowledge fast enough. He is all knowing. He could have studied, if the damn communists had not come. He swears at all Russians, yet dreams of St. Petersburg. he still calls it Leningrad.
He was a great athlete. He played every sport, ran every race. He can shoot any gun with exact precision. He shot a bird in flight last week. He has run marathons. All the vases that are displayed above my grandmothers kitchen cabinets he won in running races. He was not young then anymore either, it was all in the past 20 years. My grandfather is 74 years old and remembers world war II. He has the body of a young god, if young gods looked like old men who are well fit.
My grandfather once told me
"I played goalie for the national football team"
He has since revoked this stating he played in the premier league for Slovakia but did not take part in the national team. He also once punched a teenager during a match for taunting him from behind the net. He didn't even miss the goal the other team tried to score on them.
My grandfather thinks my father is incredible. He tells the entire village that we live in Canada and have a BMW and a house that he helped remodel. Truly he merely added a cement wall next to the driveway to keep the gravel from spilling away from our driveway because of the rough weather.
He built their house from scratch, all by himself. he added the roof years later and the upstairs would make a fantastic atelier for him, if he could only take up painting again. But paint is expensive, and he makes little money.
he does have a lot of money saved to give to me as a gift when I get my doctorate. he saved when he was the mayor. He pronounces it 'major' and refuses to say the word in any language but english. I believe he has completely forgotten it in slovak.
my grandfather wants to build me a house, from the basement where I'll keep the cherry preserves, to the roof, fully equipped with the skylights I love for their light. My grandfather can install infloor heating to keep my toes warm so I wont need to wear slippers.
My grandfather could have had any property he wanted, but they all got too expensive by the time he decided he wanted them. He wishes he was young so he could build himself another house. he enjoy works, hates sitting around.
This is not a man who waits for you to finish your sentences. He has already begun more interesting new thoughts as soon as you have opened your mouth. You are always behind.
You can find nearly everything in his basement: fur coats to fashionable clothes. Its a real "shame" that he burned all my father's old clothes. We would all be wearing them nowadays. He has old skis- wooden skis. you've never seen anything like them thats for sure. I am quick to reply that I have in antique stores. My wit turns up blank stares and he continues with the discussion of prices for downhill skiing in Grenoble. One might live in France, but according to my grandfather, one has no clue what goes on in the country or where places are.
He is surprised by any amount of knowledge you may offer. He can counter any argument and will frequently change sides mid battle. He would have been a bad warrior- yet certainly a strong skilled one.
My grandfather is getting old. You can hear it in his sentances. His senses are fading, his legs are hurting, his fingers would never be able to type as fast as mine- so he says. He talks to his television, talks to his cat. He argues with my grandmother about whether the courthouse television show they watch has actors or real people. He is mystified by much of what he sees. He has not had the possibility to live out many of his dreams. this makes him regretful. He often tells me we have nothing to talk about together because he is an old man, yet he never shuts up.
He is a paradox unto himself and with death fast approaching I wonder how i will miss his pointless rants. "
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