Grandfather Jairo’s funeral

Chapter XIV:  Grandfather Jairo’s funeral

The funeral carriage Granada’s streets, Nicaragua
The funeral carriage           Granada’s streets, Nicaragua

“Then you’re family!” he expressed as he gave a big hug. “Let me tell you, honey, that for us, Jairo’s family, through and through! Even more so, Jairo’s like if he had been born in Corinto, if you get my meaning. In the neighbourhood, everybody knows him and knows him well. Your grandpa is always in a great mood, and he’s ready to talk about anything. Back home, he’s more popular than any of the Sandinista Comandantes.

When I was a kid, and I was starting to help my ole man with the fishing (could have been around seven or so), sometimes we’d go out fishing and he’d come along. When we got back, we cooked ourselves a few of the best and biggest fishes, and we stayed chilling and shooting the breeze, till the late hours of the night.

Says my daddy, that when your grand pappy was a boy, he’d come on down to the port every Sunday morning on his bicycle, ain’t that the truth! Then, he would buy fresh fish and seafood for his mom’s fancy restaurant. Smart customers she had, all dressed like movie stars, they was, oh yea! And he got good deals from the gang, too! People loved that sweet-talking rascal. Nice to everybody, saying hello to all, and he got along fine with us, that’s a fact! He used to come to the house, and he’d barge in like if it were his own.” I just had to laugh when I heard him, for he was right; that was Grandfather right on the mark. He was if anything, a sociable person.

In Spanish


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    Chapter XIII


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