Cocktail Time

Everyday at five o'clock my grandfather could be found sitting in his chair, already home from the office, or a day on the golf course. The afternoon could have been spent puttering in the yard or playing cards at the club but at five there he was, feet up, in his big red leather chair. I know this because everyday at five, wherever she was, be it starting dinner in the kitchen, cutting flowers for the kitchen table or at work at her desk in the red room, Mimi would call out, "Daddy, isn't it time for a cocktail?". And without saying a word my dear Bopaw would get up, walk across the room to the bar and make two bourbons with soda, and one ginger ale, if I was around.

Last week at the zoo, sitting in the children's area with the other moms and watching our little ones run around, I glanced at my watch, realized it was getting late and announced, over the sound of the squealing children, the chatter of the other moms, and the roar of the lion "Ladies, please, we need to go, it's cocktail time".

Oh dear, old habits die hard. It's important to make their great grandparents real for them, don't you think?