Grandpa, The Hero

"Wow," little Cathy exclaimed as they took the path up from the skating pond, "that was a great afternoon of skating." Cathy was the youngest of the seven grand-kids.

The Knowlton's returned to Grandpa's Central Park West home on the 15th floor. Their cheeks were rosy from the cold; their eyes sparkling with fun. They all gathered around the fireplace, as Grandma brought in the hot chocolate.

"We've always loved skating in the Park," Grandpa said, "ever since I rescued your Grandmother."

"You rescued Grandma?" the young ones all screamed. "Tell us the story."

Their parents, having heard the story many times, rolled their eyes while taking precautions to shade their reaction from the young ones.

"Your Grandma was quite the skater," Grandpa began. "I a dashing young man about town."

"Dashing," Grandma spoke up, "maybe on foot, but not on skates."

"Oh, come on," Grandpa said, "let me tell the story."

"It was a Winter much like this one. December warm, so by January, everyone looked forward to skating in Central Park as soon as there was ice."

"A little too soon," Grandma spoke up again.

"Shush," Grandpa loudly whispered.

"It was a grand afternoon. Dozens of young men and ladies skating, some arm in arm, some chasing each other."

"Which were you Grandpa?" Cathy asked.

"He couldn't have caught me," Grandma offered, "so we were arm in arm."

"Doesn't matter," Grandpa said. "At the far end of the pond, where the rushes grow, the ice wasn't thick enough."

"Your Grandmother fell through. I had to be a hero and pull her from the freezing water, risking going in myself."

"Yeah for Grandpa," the children applauded his heroism.

"It was dangerous," Grandma made clear with the blink of an eye, "the water was over the tops of my skates."