My grandfather is visiting his great-granddaughter.
When he visits, as I’ve mentioned before, he likes to sit in the rocking chair, hold his baby, and empty his head of random thoughts into my ear. He asks a lot of questions, and never waits for an answer before moving on to the next question. His head is full of curiosity and he likes talking to me. He cracks me up.
On Simian Idiot’s Facebook page, I’ve been posting a running transcript of his commentary. He keeps asking what the hell I’m doing on that computer, and if I tried to explain it, it would be a long, difficult conversation, so I told him I’m looking up my stocks.
I go back to w*rk in two weeks and I’m going to miss hanging around with him during the day, listening to all the shit he’s curious about.
Sifu is cooking a thousand meatballs in the next room. The whole house smells of garlic.
Grandpa asked if I know how babies respond to new smells. “Do they like the smell of cooking? They don’t know what food is yet.”
I didn’t know, so I started to google it for him. Thanks to the rest of the world, I didn’t have to wait long to learn something:
Do babies like the smell of balls? How can we even know this?
As long as the spirit of intellectual curiosity continues to run strong, can there really be any question about the glorious future of mankind?
It’s certainly something to think about.