Art Webster was my favorite grandfather. Technically, of course, he wasn't my grandfather at all — only my neighbor, who lived down the road on the farm with all the cows. But he was my ADOPTED grandfather — a constant and steadfast presence of warmth and kindness. I used to ride my bike down to his farm just to visit with him, and no matter how busy he was, he always seemed happy to see me — patting me on the head and calling me "curly", and grinning at me as if my visit was the most important part of his day. As I grew older, I came to admire his ethics. To me, he was the perfect Yankee farmer — the embodiment of all the great parts of that character (modesty, frugality, community spirit, hard work, kindness) without any of the possible negative aspects of that character (never judgmental, never isolating, never cold.) There will never be another one like Art Webster. I will forever remember his twinkly eyes, his wit, and — more than anything — his giant, tireless heart. I will always miss my grandfather, and feel grateful that I knew him as well as I did.
