Round.?  That covers it.?  His round face was capped by a bald head with white trimmings on the side.?  Right in the center of it all was a somewhat bulbous nose that most times was accented with a devilish grin.

Picture Santa.? 
"His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!...He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,..." (The Night Before Christmas)

That's my Grandfather.?  In fact, he once played Santa in a local department store.?  My parents took me there and I have a treasured picture of me sitting on his lap.

His visit every Sunday was the highlight of my weekend.?  As soon as he'd walk in, he'd ask for the newspaper.?  He wanted to see the list of people who didn't have to pay taxes.?  I never understood what he was talking about.?  It wasn't until later in life that his own name appeared there.?  It was the obituaries.

He lived on the third floor of an old apartment building.?  Every Sunday evening we would take him home and drop him off in the rear of the building. It would sometimes take twenty to thirty minutes for him to get up the stairs.?  His legs were bad.?  We'd walk three or four steps and stop.?  Often times he'd sit down on the steps and back his way up until we reached the top.

It was those pauses on each landing I valued most.?  We'd talk about things we failed to cover in his visit.? 
"You can go Bobby," he insisted.? ? 
"No, that's okay.?  I'm in no hurry."
Oddly enough, the very last time I saw my Grandfather he was in the hospital.? 
Of course I had no idea that our time together was coming to an end.
I had spent about an hour and a half with him in intensive care that evening.? 
"I'm going now," I said.? 
He chuckled a bit and said, "Some kind of friend you are leaving me here sitting on the curb."
I was confused.?  I tried to explain to him where he was.?  He just shook his head and laughed.
The next night was the big dance at the fire hall.?  It was a difficult choice to make, but I chose to go to the dance instead of visiting him.

He died that evening.?  I never got to say goodbye.?  All those times I stayed with him as he crawled up the stairs to his apartment ended with him thinking I was leaving him sitting on the curb.

But I did have one last precious moment with him.?  Days before that, when I thought that he'd recover, we sang together.

Yes, that little boy I mentioned in the beginning of this story was me.
"Sing it again, Gramps!" I urged him.
"Again?" he asked.
"Come on, please?"
And without the ukulele accompaniment this time we sang..."Three Little Fishes"
I'd love to think that someday we'll get to "Sing it again."
Here's the first verse.?  If you know it...sing along!

THREE LITTLE FISHES
(Itty Bitty Poo)

Sung by Kay Kyser in 1939
Words and music by Saxie Dowell

Down in the meadow in a little bitty pool
Swam three little fishies and a mama fishie too
"Swim" said the mama fishie, "Swim if you can"
And they swam and they swam all over the dam
Boop boop dit-tem dat-tem what-tem Chu!
Boop boop dit-tem dat-tem what-tem Chu!
Boop boop dit-tem dat-tem what-tem Chu!
And they swam and they swam all over the dam