Last night I called my grandpa and he had just wrapped up a banjo lesson. He is 89 years old. He can’t wait to play a diddy or two for me when I’m home for the holidays. My great aunt Glo said he has been having a grand old time and has been strumming on his banjo with his instructor for days. My grandpa is a bit of an eccentric so his hopes and dreams of becoming a banjo-playing maestro shouldn’t really come as a surprise to me. Last time I was home his passion was model ships and a number of mysterious packages of old battleships were being delivered on the front stoop. No one acknowledged the new nautical decor but there was a constant fear of the three foot Titanic replica cropping up as a center piece in the living room on any given day.
These are not the follies of a man late in his life - nothing of the sort. If you were to ask my grandpa what age group he was in, he would say middle-aged (I casually confirmed this just a few years back). This sentiment is evidenced by the fact that he recently traded in his beige Lexus for an Escalade, no matter that he hasn’t been behind the wheel in years. So now my grandpa and Fifty Cent are both riding in style, although I reckon Fifty Cent’s Escalade is not carrying nostalgic battle ships and a small banjo as cargo.
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