Elliot Cohen
Bio
Writer of Anything
Stories (1/0)
To Collect
The first thing I remember noticing about my grandfather was that he seemed to be perpetually of place. The adults in my life wore regular clothes, jeans, t-shirts, and occasionally suits for funerals and business, but aside from the occasional tie-dyed hippie in the Arts district or Skid Row, the clothing patterns in my life were the same. Grandpa Joseph, on the other hand, always seemed to have just walked out of a time machine from 1949, impeccably dressed in a pinstripe or wool jacket, depending on the weather, a wide-brimmed fedora perfectly centered on his head, a tie, complete with tie pin and clip. And pants, always creased at the ankle, flowing naturally into patent leather Oxfords. I cannot think of a time when I did not hear the melodies of the Ink Spots or Frank Sinatra tumbling out into the street when we came for dinner, and I remember always scrambling out of the car and bolting into the house to see the walls, covered with photos of a time past, and smelling my grandfather’s aftershave in his study, hearing the rumble of his voice calling to me. "Come here Alex, Grandma has something for you to try."
By Elliot Cohen3 years ago in Families