“Grampsy, you know, you’re not like a normal grandfather,” seven year-old Jesse exclaimed during my most recent visit with her and her sister in a New York suburb. Although I’m now back at home in the greater DC area, I’m still smiling as I think about her comment, made while we were jumping together on the backyard trampoline. As we bounced I asked her what she meant by “normal.” “Well, Grampsy,” she said, “Normal grandfathers don’t go on trampolines with their grandchildren.” I responded, “Maybe we need to rethink what being a ‘normal grandfather’ means.” This led to a brief and interesting discussion, intermittently punctuated by my inability to picture my own grandfather without a tie around his neck. He died in 1962, a time when the role of grandfather was a lot more formal.