I worked in Gramps's shop for most of my life.

It's been the first job for not just me, but all my siblings and most of my cousins.

Grandpa runs a little pawn shop downtown, the kind of place that sells antiques as well as modern stuff.

It does pretty well.

I don't think I've ever seen him worry about paying rent, that he can afford to pay

us kids better than any other place in the neighborhood. All the other kids quit on it after a while,

but, you know, I, I enjoyed the work, and Grandpa always said I had a real knack for it. You keep at it, kid.

Someday this old shop will be yours.

Grandfant and I live above the shop.

He offered me the spare room after grandma died a few years back.

It's been a pretty good arrangement.

Every evening he turns on the radio, cracks a beer, we sit around, we drink.

He tells me stories from back of the day.

The radio never seemed to make any noise.

I always asked him why he kept it around.

Told me it was something that he'd had for a long time and that it was special.

I asked how the old radio was special.

He said, he said that was a long story. I've had the time for it, I said, I didn't

have anything else to do, but sit here, listen to the rain, and Grandpa settling in as the old

thing clicked and clunked in the background.

Grandpa grew up in the early 60s.

Technically, he grew up in the 40s and 50s,

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