menschmensch!When he didn’t answer right away, my grandfather repeated his question. “What is it, Fishke?”
“A… a man,” he finally said.
“What kind of man?” More than a hint of irritation had entered my grandfather’s voice.
Franklin’s mouth was half-open but frozen. I leaned over and whispered the answer in his ear.
“A nice man,” he said.
“More than a nice man. A man who cares about other men. A man who treats other men with respect. Do you understand?”
Franklin was slow to answer again. I nudged him and said, “Yes.”
“Yes,” he repeated.
“You two boys treat other people with respect, right?
We both said, “Right.”
“Good,” my grandfather said, his irritation disappearing. “Now, this is where the story gets mysterious. Many days later, when Eli and the two men returned to the bottom o
