I’ve been working like a dog for the past three days, and won’t come up for air till the weekend, so to tide you over till then I’m sharing with you this email I received from my father this morning, which apart from the thermos of coffee Ross left waiting for me when I came back from the gym, I expect will be the best thing about my day. (My dad also sent the email to a friend of his, which is why he refers to Asher as “my grandson.”)

P.S. This story is better if you know Asher and can hear his voice, and also if you have seen my dad himself listening to music.

I marked my 60th birthday about 5 months ago. Last night I was driving my son-in-law’s Porsche ** 911 Carrera with my three year-old grandson, Asher, in the front seat. He sits on a booster seat that allows him to be right close to the control panel and he calls himself the co-pilot as his dad allows him to press buttons that do a myriad of things. While I was driving he turned on the sound system, made the sound level loud and, looking at me said, “Grandpa, you have to turn on the sound loud so that you can hear the music. This car goes very fast, you know, and when it goes very fast it makes a loud sound. Can you hear the loud sound of the engine?” I obligingly step on the accelerator and the car growls louder than the radio program. The car was stopped at a red light and I turned to look at him. His face was animated and his eyes were bright with excitement. His eyes still shining very brightly, he leans forward and presses another button and another red neon light comes on the dashboard. “The doors are all locked now, you know, Grandpa”. He leans slightly to his front and right and twiddles another knob and the stereo system changes from radio to CD. I glance at him to see him with his right hand clenched except for the forefinger which was rigidly pointing straight forward. He was using this finger to beat time to the pop music that was playing very loudly indeed. He excitedly said to me, “Grandpa, you have to listen to the music with your finger like this, you know!” waving his finger up and down in time to the music.

** I invited Kali (Kali is an old friend of my dad’s) to the house for lunch and to hand him mooncakes. Giving him mooncakes is something I have been doing for more then 20 years now. He was late and I received a phone call from him. He said, “Vijay, have you moved as I cannot find your house?’ I said, no, I was still at the same place. He hesitated a little and then said, “Do you have a Porsche parked in the front porch and Chinese lanterns hanging on the front of the car porch awning? I replied, yes, that is the house. He said, “I saw the place but thought to myself that this cannot be your house, for Vijay will never buy a Porsche.”