Rooster... lost my grandfather recently and yours is a great story so thanks for making me smile.
When I would see my grandpa at the top of the steps upon arriving at his house, there was always the shake hands hard and see who would cry uncle first type of game...
In the early years he always had the edge but faked the struggle to give us hope...
Then the days came when us kids had the advantage and squeezed his hand so hard he had to concede.
As the years went on our hands got bigger and stronger and his got smaller and weaker..
But the game never changed. Your story reminded me of that game we used to play, and for that I thank you.
