Reconteur

Little Joe snuck glances at his gradfather while picking at his macaroni and cheese. He was "Little" Joe during his stay with his grandparents for ease of distguishing him from his namesake. Little Joe loved this connection to his grandfather and hoped to be as good a storyteller as him some day.

He had been secretly watching him during lunch for this very reason. That and the fact that Grandpa couldn't cook. Little Joe's plate of lumpy, pale orange paste could not hold his attention as much as the wrinkles around Big Joe's eyes.

During the bedtime rituals as set forth by his grandparents, Little Joe would take his shower, as surpervised by Grandma Jean, slip on his jammies, and fall asleep to one of Big Joe's stories. It was the only time Big and Little Joe connected, as if Big Joe could only communicate through story-telling, and he didn't want to run out of stories to tell. Even though Big Joe didn't say much outside of the bedtime stories, the stories were more than enough to impress Little Joe.

The previous night's story had been especially engaging, and actually scary at times. Big Joe talked about the Yukon gold rush and its arduous and dangerous journey. He even talked about how the harsh condtions affected sledgogs, especially one named Buck. As always, Big Joe talked like he was there.

Little Joe had never paid much attention to the time frame of the stories. At most, some comment like, "when I was a boy" or "many summers ago" was included. Last night, however, Big Joe had specially mentioned the year, 1897, so Little Joe furtively examined his grandfather for evidence of his age. Could Big Joe be that old? If not, how did he know the story so well? He hoped his parents would stay on their Las Vegas vacation long enough to find out.