Perhaps "Grandmother and Grandfather" was too much of a mouthful for little ones, so my parents came to be known as "G and G" or, sometimes, just "the Gs."
The other G doesn't see everything through an algabraic eye. She and I turned a lug of apricots into jam one evening. We gave an absent-minded nod to ratios, temperatures, heat conductivity of metals, and the properties of a vacuum, but were more focused on the senses....taste, smell, color.
We like to welcome these two native Texans to our northern abode with a front-porch tribute to their heritage.
G, aka my dad, knows how to take apart a clock and make it work again. Since my clock wasn't ticking, he gave me a tour of its vital organs, including a mathematical discussion of pendulum length---note his scribbled algebraic formulas on the newspaper.
When I was in high school, I might ask Dad for help solving for x, and wind up with a dissection of the Second Law of Thermodynamics. My dad can turn a watermelon seed into a calculus problem and then show you fifteen ways to solve it. This is not a useless skill; he might decide to write you a computer program, fix your broken step or rewire your basement, all because he sees every practical problem as a series of fascinating mathematical relationships. Each one is a siren song to his numerical brain.
The other G doesn't see everything through an algabraic eye. She and I turned a lug of apricots into jam one evening. We gave an absent-minded nod to ratios, temperatures, heat conductivity of metals, and the properties of a vacuum, but were more focused on the senses....taste, smell, color.
I think we'll get Dad on our team when we open the first jar.
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