You wish to know all about my grandfather. Well, he is nearly 93 years old, yet he still thinks as swiftly as ever. He dresses himself in an ancient, black frock coat, usually minus several buttons.
A long, flowing beard clings to his chin, giving those who observe him a pronounced feeling of the utmost respect. When he speaks his voice is just a bit cracked and quivers a trifle. Twice each day he plays skillfully and with zest upon a small organ.
Except in the winter when the snow or ice prevents, he slowly takes a short walk in the open air each day. We have often urged him to walk more and smoke less but he always answers, "Banana oil!" Grandfather likes to be modern in his language.
When the sunlight strikes raindrops in the air, they act like a prism and form a rainbow. A rainbow is the division of white light into many beautiful colors. These take the shape of a large, round arch, with its path high above and its two ends apparently beyond the horizon.
There is, according to legend, a boiling pot of gold at one end. People look but no one ever finds it. When a man looks for something beyond his reach, his friends say he is looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Limpy is a fuzzy, yellow, baby duck. He belongs to a fisherman. The fisherman lives in a little house by the bay. Every morning children go swimming in the bay. About 10:00, Limpy waddles out to the road to wait for the children. When he hears them coming he begins a loud, excited quacking.
The children always bring bread or corn for Limpy. He will nip at their fingers or peck at their bare toes until he is fed. Limpy never follows the children down to the shore. He likes to swim in his own little pond. It is much safer.
Cindy S. Spillers, Ph.D.