Lately I have been thinking about my Dad's father. He passed away when I was seventeen, and although I had known him all that time, I haven't appreciated something wonderful about this quiet man.
I called him Nono, the Italian word for grandfather. I remember him as someone who sang Italian songs softly, and told the story of The Three Billy Goats Gruff. I would beg for this story until he would acquiesce, telling it the same way over and over, making his voice sound mean when it came to th
