One of my fellow Scribblers in my writer's group, Sue Bavey has written a book about her grandfather, Lucky Jack. Lucky, or rather blessed, was he. Someone up there, looked out for him. What a life!
He lived in three centuries. 1894-2000. The chapters are short memories. Sometimes, a chapter could be one paragraph. No chapter was longer than a few pages. There're pictures, too. The book was so easy.
I'm jealous. I want Jack as my grandfather. He seemed to always land on his feet. He was a shoemaker and it seemed to be a good occupation because he never seem to want anything. He was one of the first to buy an automobile. He took his family on vacations. Everything he did seemed interesting, even his war stories.
He was trained to be a sniper. He was buried twice, and dug out, of course. He was even in a POW camp.
His advocation was entertainment. He was quite the comedian, which came in handy while in the German prison camp. This upbeat comedic attitude probably helped him come home from the war, whole.
His last home, the nursing home was the recipient of his entertaining habits. His upbeat, happy attitude lasted until the very end. That's why everyone who met him was "lucky." The reader will be entertained by Lucky Jack, too.
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