On March 24th, my Grandfather, E.H. Vokey, passed away. He was 88 years old. He called me his (pronounced) cockedah roosah. I never did ask him why he called me that or what it meant. He took great pride in the fact that I look just like he did when he was my age.
Nan once sent him out to get ice cream. He came back 7 or 8 hours later with melted mess. When nan asked him where he was, he replied "in a helicopter". I think that's totally understandable. If I were given the opportunity to go for a spin in a whirly-bird I would drop what I was doing and get aboard too. Me and pop are a lot a-like that way.
I heard a lot of funny stories about pop in the past few weeks. A lot of them involve him being drunk. That is how a lot of my funny stories roll.

I miss him.