My Grandpa

The thunderstorms entry got me thinking about my grandpa more in-depth. I was reading this forum post on my local paper's website where somebody was commenting that they were a book kind of family and their twenty-four-year-old son just got a Kindle and bragged that it had revolutionized reading, and how they missed print papers as opposed to online ones.
 I don't know why it was, really, that the comment made me think of how it was my grandpa who taught me how to "properly" read a print paper. You quarter it, and then fold it over to the section you want to read. It also made me think of all the word games we used to play together. I'd eagerly ask him for a word to spell and he'd pick one he thought was hard. He'd do the same thing for math.
Fishing was never my thing, but when my grandpa went fishing, I went fishing. I mostly played with the worms and made him bait the hook, always, but it was a good time out at the pond. He taught me how to cast, patiently. This was no easy task; Ms. Perfectly Balanced I am not.
Grampa, you rule, dude.