When my cousins and I were at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s house, Grandma often sent us into the basement to play. We enjoyed playing dress-up with all of the cloth that Grandma had in the cabinets down there. When the water pump started up, we danced and sang our version of La Cucaracha. However, I don’t think that it was just for our enjoyment that Grandma sent us down into the basement to play. I assume that she was trying to maneuver us loud grandkids around Grandpa, who believed that children should be seen and not heard.

There were, though, rare moments of stress-free family life when Grandpa agreed to take part in a game. I remember that we played “Thimble, thimble, who’s got the thimble” in the living and dining room. One person would leave the room and the others would hide Grandma’s thimble. When the other person came back into the room, he or she would walk around and those who knew where the thimble was would say either “hot”, “cold” or something in between, depending on how close the person looking for the thimble got to the object of his or her search.

During this game, Grandpa sat silently in his armchair smoking his pipe and watching us closely. I had the feeling that he was enjoying our game. Once, the others hid the thimble over the bowl of his burning pipe. It took me forever to find it, and when I picked it up, I burned my fingers. Everybody, even Grandpa, laughed.