My grandpa, Wallace Oscar Hughes, died six years ago yesterday. Thanks to the magic of the internet though, his life continues to unfold for me. Every once in a while, I get a phone call or an email from one of his friends, his colleagues, or his collectors. (He was a wildlife artist.)
This month, I got an email from Gene Smith who shared this story with me: “I played a joke on him once: While he was away from his desk, I tipped a bottle of fake black ‘ink’ on some layouts he was sketching. When he returned and saw the stuff, he said not a word, but his neck and face turned a beautiful shade of red. He realized he’d been had when our giggling turned to laughter. Then he said, ‘Why, you miserable…’ and joined in the merriment. I was on guard for several days, expecting reciprocity, but it never came. He was such a gentleman.”
I love this story because my grandpa was the closest person to a saint that I will probably ever meet, and this is as close as he ever came to cursing in any story that I have ever heard about him.
If you would like to read more about my grandpa, click here.