Grandpa Lied

My grandfather lied to my grandmother, I guess it runs in the family. They met in Prague shortly after WWII, both destitute. My grandmother was Jewish and while she never escaped the concentration camps, she did make it through. My grandfather was so smitten with her that he would have said anything. The Greeks call it “the Thunderbolt,” at least they did in “the Godfather,” but my grandfather wasn’t Greek, so, he just called it “wow.” It wasn’t until after he died that we found out he had been a NAZI officer.

It wasn’t until that weekend in Duluth when we all came together for his funeral, when we were going through his things and my little brother, Stewart, found a sunken compartment inside grandpa’s steamer trunk that had his old military uniform (just a regular uniform), a few medals (mostly for bravery), his passport (stamped only for Czechoslovakia and the USA), and a clothbound journal written in German.

This is a writing exercise that was cut short and I no longer remember where it was going before I was interrupted