Driving down 5th Ave the other day seeing the High Rise building I thought about my Grandmother,  Hattie Hesler. She was a little thing not hardley 95 pounds soak and wet, A fire ball none the less. My Grand paw on other hand was a big huge tall man.  With a gentleness with us as a baby lamb. He wore blue jean overalls amost of the time and kept a gold pocket watch in the side of the overall bib. I would often remember setting in his lap playing with his watch,  Also I thought the coolest thing he would pull out a red prince albert can of tobacco and some white paper strips and roll a cigarette.  I can remember like I am watching him today lick the end of the paper to make it stick in a roll. And he always had a plug of tobacco in his pocket. He would pull his knife out of his pocket and cut a piece off to chew. sometimes he would cut me a small piece to chew. I remember it tasting peppery on my tongue .  I wonder if my Mom ever knew about this cause her Being a lady Preacher and all she would have just killed us both.  Not really but she would not have condoned it.  Well stories told of him in his younger years he was a Hobo.   He hopped trains and went all over, Often times leaving my grandmother raising 4 kids by herself during the depression.  No matter about all that I just thought that was the most awesome thing ever.  I had a Grandfather that was a Hobo. It trumped anything my friends grandparents did.  How cool is that.  Well to a 6 year old it was cool.  He still often wondered around in his older age guess it was in his blood.  He would take off early and wonder most of the day , He never drove a car.  My Mom would tell me he would walk to our house early and get me out of my crib and dress me. He would say "somethings wrong with this baby, she never cries"  He had a nickname for me it was Butterball.  Well I guess it applies now. He passed away when I was 11,  We were all heartbroken,  we all loved our Grand Paw.  He left footprints on my Heart that I will always remember plus he made alot of footprints himself with his traveling vagabond spirit,  Maybe that's where I get mine.  Elmer Hesler  my Grandpaw,