We were sitting on the couch, my grandfather and I. The TV showed Guy Fieri eating fish coated in a thick egg batter on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. My dog, Lily, a Westie, whined for us to pet her head. The room was quiet, I had not seen my grandfather since August and I wondered where to start the conversation beyond university, grades, food and technology.
"Do you remember World War II?" I blurt. Great, super normal question to ask a person.
My grandfather, however, responds, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. We thought the GERMans were going to poison us with some GERM from the sky."
I laughed nervously at his unexpected-- yet characteristic--response.
"You know, it must have been difficult to raise a family then, with rations and food stamps..." he continued.
"Especially with eleven kids," I said.
"Yes, yes..." he responded, and leaned forward on his cane. "There was no way really around it, even with the different animals and such that we had...everyone was rationed."
