Today was baked potato day at school. I never eat a baked potato that I don't think of Bob's Grandpa, Kenneth Stevens.
You know, people are known for many things. I loved Grandpa Stevens for many, many things. He accepted me as his own, he had great wisdom and knowledge of the word of God, he had a great sense of humor, loved his family dearly, and was a really caring man. In addition, he had an amazing talent. That man could clean a baked potato perfectly. I don't even know if I can explain it right. With his fork, and only using his right hand, as he would eat his potato, he would scrape the inside of the shell (shell? I'm sure that isn't the word I'm looking for, but it will work) completely clean. I mean, there would be no more pieces of potato clinging to the inside of the skin. NONE.
See this? This lady is pretty good. But she's got nothing on Grandpa Stevens. Nothing.
Now, I know that is trivial, and I'm sure amusing to some, but I will never forget it. I was always so impressed. I am a horrible baked potato eater. I can't clean my shell for anything. But every time I eat one, I think of him. And I am impressed, yet again. I am thankful for the reminder of him today. He really was a wonderful man. I loved him greatly.
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