Pop didn’t come down to our house much. Perhaps it was because we kids visited he and Granny at their house pretty much every day. Perhaps it was because he was into his seventh decade by the time the four of us came along. Whatever the reason, it was a rare occasion and always a treat when Pop hiked the couple of hundred yards over the hill from his house to ours. Usually, a scout would come and alert the rest of the gang, “Pop is coming! Pop is coming!”

In our early childhood years, if Pop was coming, that meant that his dog Wormy was a step behind. Wormy was Pop’s faithful sidekick, a roly-poly Manchester whose physique belied his name. When Pop would walk anywhere, Wormy followed about a single step behind with his eyes fixed to the ground. If Pop stopped, Wormy ran into him...

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