My grandfather did not win the Nobel Prize. In fact, he didn't win any prizes that I know of. He was a railway mail clerk in the days when they had those. Almost nobody now alive remembers him. When we die, no one will know he existed.

But he took us out in the country in the fall and we gathered black walnuts. Today, living in the city, I gather black walnuts where I can find the trees. Most people seeing me do it have no idea why I am picking them up, or even what they are. Many see them as nuisances.

I remember with much fondness my grandfather and the black walnuts and the whittling and the other simple things he did to make our childhoods better.