Grandfather

I hold the little black book tightly, as though I could squeeze the answers out of it. The book is my grandfather’s gift to me, filled with amazing stories of european dignitaries and royalty that he met or had shared a drink with. His was a life filled with travel and negotiations while working as a head engineer at the European branch of Boeing. The book also mentions times when he was young and growing up in the depression. Stories of dirt floors, hard work, and not a lot to eat. It was not the grandfather I knew. The man that I knew had long since retired when I came along. He lived in a comfortable home, and he filled his days mentoring students at the local library, cross stitching intricate landscapes, and playing silly old songs on his banjo.

He was also a brilliant man who enjoyed puzzles of all kinds. And that’s why I’m currently standing in the middle of my room staring at my bookcase. In addition to snapshots and fantastic stories, this book contains several word puzzles. Seven puzzles to be exact. Initially, I thought that these puzzles were put into the book purely for my entertainment; now I believe that they are all linked together as part of a larger puzzle.

I’d discovered a few weeks prior that one of the puzzles seemed to make an image of the letter G. It could have been a coincidence, but as I went back through all of the other puzzles, each of them also seemed to have a letter associated with it. Today I discovered the last one, and the letters can be arranged to spell out the word BINDING.

I meticulously inspect the binding of my little black book but nothing seems out of the ordinary. A dead end. So here I stand, staring at my shelves of books…wishing that I could ask my grandfather for help. Which book? Which binding? Is it a book binding, or something else? My mind drifts back to that day almost a year ago.

It was a bright, spring-like morning when we received a call from the convalescent home where my grandfather was recovering after a mild stroke. People were getting sick, and dying. Lots of people. My grandfather had acquired a cough, and the whole facility had gone into lockdown. No one was being allowed in or out. The staff was doing their best, but some of them had become ill as well. A few days later, my grandfather was dead. We couldn’t even say goodbye.

At his funeral, as his friends came up to speak, I realized that I really didn’t know a lot about my grandfather. I knew him as a master of puzzles and the keeper of all information. A man who was rarely stumped at game show questions or crossword puzzles or games like Mastermind. We both loved solving puzzles and riddles, but he was on a level so far above me. Now, I was finding out so much more about the man. As I listened to fantastical bits about his life and achievements, the more I wished that I had gotten to know him better. Little did I know that my wish was about to be granted.

After the funeral, my father handed me a small envelope with the words ``The Adventure Begins” written on the outside. Inside the envelope was a brass key, with a number stamped on it. The key was to a safety deposit box which held a gift that my grandfather had intended to give me at my high school graduation. Class of 2020.

When I arrived home, I placed the key inside of the backgammon set that my grandfather had given me when I was ten. I zipped it closed, and placed it on a shelf. I had waited for a month before I opened it up again to retrieve the key. It was time to move forward.

At first I was going to wait until graduation to retrieve the gift, but now it looked like there wasn’t going to be a real graduation. I really needed something to brighten my day. So, I headed to the bank to retrieve my gift. When I arrived at the bank, I was directed to the bank manager. He offered me a seat, and then he headed to the vault to retrieve the box. Instead of taking a seat, I just stood by awkwardly. A few moments later, he reappeared with a metal box, unlocked it, and turned it in my direction. I slowly lifted the lid to reveal its contents...a book.

I picked up the little black book and slowly opened it.

“Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed, “It’s my grandfather!” Inside, on the first page, was taped a picture of a young boy of six or seven. My grandfather's name was written below it. I quickly leafed through the book and saw it was completely filled with pictures and puzzles, and pages and pages of neatly written cursive. There was also a bookmark with a picture of me as a teenager and the words “The Adventure Begins.”

Suddenly I snap back to the present, my heart racing. I think I know what binding my grandfather is referring to... “The Scrapbook!” I race to my closet and pull out a banker box full of my keepsakes and mementos. This is crazy! This means that my grandfather planned this way back during the summer that I had turned 13. Over 5 years earlier, I spent two full weeks with him having adventures and solving puzzles. It was a festival of fun to commemorate officially becoming a teenager. It was the best summer ever. At the end of the two weeks, we put together a scrapbook. It was titled “The Adventure Begins.” And now I remember that the picture of me on the bookmark was the same one of me that we put on the front of the scrapbook.

“Got it!” I pull the scrapbook from underneath a pile of ticket stubs, postcards, and yearbooks. I quickly inspect the binding. There are no words on it, and there is nothing noteworthy other than it is rather lumpy and misshapen. When I carefully bend back the covers to try to look in the space between the spine and the binding, a key falls out onto the floor.

Another key! I recognize this key as another that opens a safety deposit box. I quickly check the time and see that I don’t have a lot of time to get to the bank before it closes. So I grab my little black book and the key, and I head off to the bank.

As I enter the bank, I go directly to the bank manager, and proudly show him the key. This time I sit down, excitedly perching on the edge of the chair. The manager returns with the box, unlocks it, and turns it towards me, just as he had done almost a year ago. I quickly lift the lid.

“What?!” I jump to my feet. “It’s another little black book!” The bank manager smiles at me as I gently scoop it up and place the two books side by side. The book on the left, well loved and worn from use. The book on the right, looks just like the other, though shiny and new. I see that this book also has a bookmark. I carefully slide it from the book to reveal that it is the exact same bookmark that is in the first book, except that my grandfather’s picture has replaced mine. Again, the words “The Adventure Begins” are printed neatly beneath the picture. I open the book to reveal that all of the pages are empty, except there is a sticky note on the inside cover that reads, “Your turn to write.” “Grandpa, you little stinker.” I say softly. I’m a little disappointed that I won’t have another book to read, but I can’t help but smile as I start to gather my things together.

“Excuse me, Miss. There is something still in the box.” I lean forward and notice a piece of folded paper. Once I pick up the paper, I can see that it’s a check.

“Holy Shit!” I exclaim somewhat loudly, as I unfold the check. I quickly cover my hand over my mouth. I look around the bank and see all eyes on me. “Sorry about that,” I say shyly and give everyone an awkward smile. The check that I am holding in my hand is a bank check for 20,000 dollars.

“Is this thing real?’ I ask the manager as he closes the box. He assures me that it was one hundred percent real. As the manager is walking away, I tuck the check into my grandfather’s little black book. Then I pick up a pen, open up my new book, and I begin…

“This book is dedicated to the smartest, funniest, most generous man that I know, my beloved grandfather. The adventures that follow are dedicated to him. I love you, grandpa!”