I miss so very many things about my grandfather. I miss watching the fights with him. I miss the stories that he told about the Jewish fighters. I miss his jokes and I miss the quiet moments in which we said nothing but enjoyed each others company.
I miss the trips to the steam room to schvitz and I miss going to the movies with him. I miss talking to him about my job and my life.
I miss the card games and the stories about the great battle of Victorville. I miss the tales of his time in the carnival and the adventures he had in New Orleans.
I miss the stories about how Kowalski showed up at my grandparent’s door demanding to take my grandfather on in another round of pool and all the yarns about life in Chicago in the ’20s.
I miss the stories about his friend Blinkie and so many others including his first time with a woman.
Grandpa was one hell of a storyteller. I only wish that I had half his ability.