Assignment 01, Dishonored this Picnic (next attempted May 22, 2005)

         The last words of Grandfather McCormick will forever echo in my mind. In a deep and determined voice, he said, "I have dishonored this picnic."
         My mother's maiden name is McCormick. Her father was Sean Nelson McCormick. He was a very interesting man. We all call my father's father Grampa, but my mother's father would only allow his grandchildren to call him Grandfather, preferably in Japanese. None of us spoke Japanese but we all permitted him the title he demanded: Grandfather.
         I believe he was quite insane.
         But I have also entertained the idea that he was very sane, and simply entertaining himself with an elaborate illusion.
         But he was probably insane. The greats always are, right? Either way, it's taken me some time to get here, but it's not about me. Let me try to explain him as best I can.
         When I was ten years old, my family went to visit Grandfather McCormick at his new home in New Mexico. My parents argued a lot about the visit. Apparently his home was not so new, he had been living there for the past seven years and we had never been to visit. My dad did not like my mom's father, or maybe Grandfather didn't like Dad. I couldn't really conceive of my dad feeling this at the time, but in retrospection, my dad was absolutely scared of my grandfather.
         I wasn't scared, I was interested. Grandfather McCormick was weird.
         His house was a big boat, but it wasn't a boat, it was built on a small island in a river and looks like a boat but is really just a boat-shaped building. It still stands, it's a marvelous achievement of architecture. My dad parked the car in the underground garage beside the river, and then we walked to the small bridge from the river bank to the deck of the house.
         Grandfather McCormick stood on the deck, in front of the bridge, over six feet tall and armed with a Japanese long sword sheathed at his waist. My dad held his suitcase in both hands while my grandfather stood with one hand on the railing and one hand on his sword handle.
         My dad tried to smile and said, "Uh, hello, sir."
         Grandfather did not smile or try to smile. He said, "Hello, William."
         My mom said, "Hi, Dad!" And they hugged and Grandfather hugged my little brother and sister.
         Grandfather shook my dad's hand and pulled him "aboard" he said. Then he looked at me, and I was still standing on the bridge. He had this heavy frown, a real serious stare. He was wearing this really bright Hawaiian shirt and some baggy shorts that showed his tattooed legs. He looked right into my eyes and showed me his teeth, a big dog growl, a full set of almost white teeth. And even though it was the weirdest thing I'd ever seen in my life, and believe me by then I'd seen some weird shit, I could tell that weird growl was still a big smile by the happy crinkled eyes in that wrinkled leathery old face.
         I squawked out, "Permission to come aboard?"
         He howled, "Captain on deck!" And hugged me aboard. Grandfather seemed to be a closed tortoise most of the time but occasionally he'd howl like a wolf.
~ unfinished ~