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You'll Be Lonely

As I aged, I became something that I never set out to become — a grandfather.

By choice, more or less, I became a husband, and then a father, and then many years passed — and I woke up one day, actually, on four separate occasions, to find that I had become a grandfather.

Which, of course, meant that I had grandchildren — as noted — four in my case. Each one was special — in their special way.

Recently, my third of four was having dinner at our home and in his own sweet way began to share his observations — also known as giving me advice.

It seems that in his household, he had learned that it was impolite to chew with your mouth open. He didn't learn it from me. I actually try to avoid opening my mouth when I chew — not for some good manner's reason, but for the good mechanics reason that when I talk while I chew I'm likely to bite my cheek or my tongue.


Enough with the background. So, here's my grandson, Elan, and he observes that I'm chewing with my mouth open. This triggers his soliloquy.

"Grandpa," Elan says. "You're not supposed to chew with your mouth open."

"Because if you chew with your mouth open, you might spit out some food on Grandma. And if you spit out some food on grandma, she wouldn't like it. And then she wouldn't want to talk to you — and you would be lonely."

I was beginning to feel lonely — although I wasn't sure that I could totally depend on this wisdom as Elan was telling me this as he had, in his enthusiasm, he was chewing and talking at the same time,

Well, there you go. If you don't want to be lonely, chew with your mouth closed. At least that's the wisdom of a five year old.











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