My grandmother told me how she ended up marrying Grandpa. She was in her 20's, and the man she was dating left for war. "We were in love," she recalled, "and wrote to each other every week. It was during that time that I discovered how wonderful your grandfather was."
"Did you marry Grandpa when he came home from the war?" I asked.
"Oh, I didn’t marry the man who wrote the letters. Your grandfather was the mailman."
Driving back from Vermont, I stopped at a vegetable stand. It was deserted except for a sleeping German shepherd.
I stepped over the dog, helped myself to some corn, then opened the cash box to pay.
Taped to the inside of the lid was this note: "The dog can count."