I was looking for lead pennies in the change drawer grandpa kept at the front of his grocery store when Chuck hurled his massive bulk through the front door. Chuck’s body wouldn’t let him come in gently. His misshapen feet forced him to lean forward at a tilt that propelled him quickly and precariously across the floor until his cane eventually brought him to a halt. “A pack of Luckies!” Chuck shouted to my grandfather who, having heard Chuck’s rumbling arrival, was now standing behind the counter. The two men exchanged friendly banter as grandpa rang up twenty-three cents on the cash register and handed Chuck two cents in change. I watched as Chuck gingerly leaned on the counter for support, rifled through his right front pocket, pulled out a wooden match, dragged it across the back of the cash register, and then put the flame to one of the cigarettes he had just purchased. I liked Chuck. He was always cheerful and, even though I was only a kid, he treated me like a real person. I fel
