My grandfather on my mother’s side was a stubborn man. Perhaps it was fleeing Europe in the 1940s. Maybe it was that he had a special needs child. Or, this was just who he was.
So growing up with my grandfather living in our home wasn’t always easy. He had a very rigid schedule often rising before the sun, sitting in his spot for meals, walking the same path every day and spending time in his chair–a rocking chair. Our family DEFINITELY has something with chairs.
When he was in his chair, he was like a king on his throne. Sometimes he read, sometimes he watched TV and sometimes he sat quietly lost in thought.
He was never alone, though. You see, he had this pencil. It was rather short. There was no eraser left and I doubt it was good for writing. It was clearly old and any outer coating it had was gone and it was like a polished, smoooth stick. It had been with him for some time. He used to take it out of a pocket and twirl it between his fingers or tap it lightly. I wish now I knew the history of the pencil. Maybe it was something cool like someone famous gave it to him–but I doubt it. It simply was referred to as “the pencil”.
He had that pencil for years, he rarely misplaced it and if we found it around the house, it was returned. There was no mistaking this pencil for another. It belonged with my grandfather.
I wish I knew what happened to it after he passed away but I don’t. Maybe it is better that way-it was only designed for one owner.
I think and post a lot about the use of fidgets with children. They are calming, entertaining and comforting. Perhaps, my grandfather’s pencil was the first fidget. Perhaps he started a trend that would take off decades later.