Tuesday, October 23, 2012
This is Jimmy's Grampa Al, whom we visited over the weekend up on the California central coast. At nearly 96 years old, he is the last grandparent either of us have, and every time we see him he gruffs out something along the lines of, "Well, I expect they'll be plowing me under, soon!" I know he's always happy to see us - particularly his great-granddaughters who think he's pretty hot stuff - but he misses his wife and dislikes getting older every year. Still, he paints every day, he attends a weekly figure drawing class, he reads, he gets out as much as he can for coffee or meals with his friends, and I know he's very proud to be a recently-published author. And, to my knowledge, he still enjoys a martini every day at five o'clock. The joke has always been that Al's martini recipe is this: toss a couple of ice cubes in a glass, fill it with whatever vodka is on hand, open the cabinet, look at the vermouth, shut the cabinet, and finish off the glass with an olive or two. And yet, at nearly 96, the man just keeps on going. He might be ready to check out, but we selfishly would like to keep him around forever.
photo taken by Mr. Jimmy Hill himself.