Grandpa stopped, his eyes focused; his ears alert and put down his newspaper. He couldn't be certain, but he thought he heard a distant melody, coming from his granddaughter's bedroom. It sounded nearly unreal, almost as if it came from another dimension, like something from some strange movie -land. The WIZARD OF OZ or FANTASIA maybe. It was unceasing and beautiful. He had never heard anything like it. He got out of his chair, intent on discovering the source of the tune.

Halfway to his granddaughter's bedroom the old man stopped, frozen in his slippers. He couldn't move a wrinkle. A thump like a hand hitting an African drum, than a cry of surprise mixed with fear came to his hairy ears. Suddenly he could move again and he ran the rest of the way to the baby's room. What he saw surprised even him.

Inside his granddaughter's crib was an unbelievable sight. Where a chubby, smiling toddler of fourteen months should have been there stood a white- haired sour-faced old woman, wearing a blue nightdress. She gripped the rail fiercely and glared at him. Not saying a word.

Before the realization could hit him like a hangover on Sunday morning, the music changed. It became louder and more aggressive. It's tempo accelerated. It raced like a bowling ball down a steep hill, till it overcame the senior citizen and swept his age away. With a flash and some twinkling colorful balls of light, Grandpa lifted into the air, vanished for a second or two, then reappeared and landed feet first in the crib. The now baby Grandpa let forth a cry with every inch of his youthened lungs that has seldom been beaten for strength, loudness or staying power on earth or in Heaven.

The music stopped. Disappearing back to wherever it came from.

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