To me the good old days were when
my Grandpa came to live with us.
Though old and lame he did not whine,
but grasped each day with eagerness.
I still recall his special way
of reading Sunday's thick Tribune
while sitting in his old gray chair,
the sections in his lap all strewn.
He always read the comics first.
Dick Tracy, Blondie, Peanuts last.
I'd sit and watch him chuckle, snort
while hoping I would get them fast.
"Ya gotta start the day off right,
especially when you're my age, Pete.
So I avoid what's on Page One
and give myself a little treat."
Then quickly he'd peruse Parade,
the book reviews in A & E,
celebs' home sales in Real Estate,
and Weekly Guide for his TV.
News sections he would slowly read.
He'd snort and grunt or rub his eyes
if stories made him mad or sad,
oft silence followed by deep sighs.
He always saved the Sports for last.
Chicago's teams--he loved them all.
He savored bios, studied stats.
"Hey, Pete, who will the Cubs recall?".
When he was finished he would sigh
and put each section back in place,
then clasp the bundle to his chest,
a blissful smile upon his face.
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