Crux

Crux is a craggy, seasoned, sunbaked fisherman from Missouri. Never one to speed up a story, and never in any kind of hurry. He has no grandchildren of his own, but likes my daughter Grace. Grace is three, and loves to run her hands over bristly whiskers on his face. I never saw this side of him before, my mother said to me, but I had. Don’t you remember when he used to come and visit with my Dad? They would stay up all night laughing about wild tales of the sea. And who was feeling his bristly whiskers? That little lad was me.