When I was little (meaning, kindegarten through 3rd or 4th grade) there was an afternoon ritual at The Compound. My Grandpa and I would walk about a quarter of a mile down the road to our neighborhood market (aka The Little Store) and he would buy me a can of Chocola. We'd walk back home, and I would drag my little rocking chair over in front of the TV and after Grandma's soap operas were over, I would watch two hours of Presto the Clown while drinking my Chocola.
In my earlier years, the cartoons would often be interrupted with news reports from a strange sounding place called Viet Nam. A few years later would be interruptions from more news reports about something strange called Watergate. But one thing I could always count on: my Grandpa walking with me to the Little Store to get a Chocola.
Looking back, it was a pretty sweet deal - both of us got in a half mile of walking, we got to spend time together, and I got a Chocola.
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