When my grandfather moved in to live with us, he stayed in his room a lot. Most of the time, I'd only see him at meals and it was rare that I conversed with him. I guess I just had nothing to say.

One time, he called me in to his room and took out this small rectangular object from his jacket pocket. It was a brass harmonica. He put it to his lips and began playing. Actually, he first took out his dentures and set them aside, and then he started playing. I thought it was the coolest thing, the harmonica playing, not the denture removal. He would then continue to hum out a tune I couldn't recognize, but one that sounded good nonetheless.