Several months ago in the early morning, Bowden appeared beside my bed and whispered into my sleepy ears "There's a picture of Grandpa Tate downstairs."
"What are you talking about Bowden?" I responded.
"It's on the darkish book downstairs," and then dropping the whisper he continued loudly "Come on Daddy! Come with me! There's a picture of Grandpa Tate downstairs."
Sarah moaned from her side of the bed, and in an effort to quiet Bowden, I aquiesced and followed him downstairs. He led me to the "Collected Poems, Prose, & Plays of Robert Frost."
On the cover was a picture of Robert Frost, and sure enough, he did kind of look like Grandpa Tate.