no sugar please. This isn't kindergarten.

Today I was running errands, and I stopped to get coffee. My regular coffee place at the farmers market is over for the season (though I can get their coffee from this one cafe) so I went to this stand I have seen around. It is kind of like a bit of home. Cute/clever little stand that looks as if it can be attached to a bicycle and carried home. The guy who runs it is a bearded hipstery dude with plenty of tattoos, and he has a nice dog who hangs out and asks for ear scritches. When the guy isn't making coffee he will be sitting on one of his little chairs either reading, or talking to another beardy surfer dude. And good coffee is made. Price wasn't bad either for a pretty satisfying cappuccino.

I stopped at the bookshop and had a look at all the big bastard books coming out for the holiday season. There is always that glut of biography/memoir. You know which ones will definitely be under the tree, and who will read what in January.

how to explain this

I just received news that my Grandfather died. I didn't know him well. He was more of a mythical figure, and very much a lone wolf. He was my Father's Father. He was the one who never quite recovered from what he saw and experienced during WWII. It heavily colored the rest of his life. There was so much sadness in his life. He was a complicated figure, and incredibly kind to my siblings, and I. (and sweet to my Mom after she divorced my Father.) While I feel this quiet sadness that he is gone; I am pleased that he has peace now. There is that regret that I didn't reach out more to him. For a long time I felt bad about my Father. Like somehow my Father's actions were my fault and I was tainted by association, and I didn't want to be this reminder of that guy. (and I think my Grandfather felt the same way.) I am glad that my brothers were able to talk to him more. (He was slightly amused to find himself a great-grandfather. And I think he was really glad that I found a spouse who was nothing like my Father.)
I feel for his brother Ange. To lose your sibling is hard, even when you are old. My Grandfather was probably the last person to remember things from their childhood. That last bit of proof of your history. I am glad my Uncle has his wife, and his daughters.

So here is to Tony. An original hepcat, who knew how to forage greens from fields, was still luring in women in his eighties, and will now truly rest in peace.