The story
My grandfather gave me more than words. He gave me the delight of learning something new, saving it, and sharing it with someone else.
In the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, tucked into the bottom corner of the front page, there was a word of the day. Every morning my grandfather took a scissors to the paper and cut it out for me. When I came to visit, he would bring out the clippings he had stashed over the week, and we would read each new word and work on committing it to memory. It was our ritual. Those words were small treasures.
The first word he read to me was petulant. Pe-tul-ant.
This deck is for him.