My Amazing Grandfather

My grandfather was born in 1883. At D-Day, he was 61 years old. Here is Dad’s dinner discussion about him:

“He stormed the beach at Normandy. That is what my father did.”

“He is a rather old man now. That is what he is.”

“He is a grandfather now. That is what my father is.”

“My father preaches to my kids about storming the beaches of Normandy.”

“He preaches about Normandy. That is true of him.”

“My father is a rather old man. I can’t get him to shut up. That is what I cannot do.”

“He preaches to my kids about storming the beaches of Normandy. That is what my father does.”

“I can’t get him to shut up. That is what I cannot do.”

“He never gets tired of preaching about storming the beaches of Normandy. He brings it up now and then.”

“My father did storm the beaches of Normandy. He was there. He never shuts up about storming the beaches of Normandy.”

“So he was there. That’s what my father was.”

“He was actually there. He stormed the beaches of Normandy. So he preaches to my kids and I can’t tell him to shut up about it.”