I never met my grandfather. He died twenty-four days after I was born.

He was loved by everyone who knew him. Not just loved. Admired, revered.

He was a pastor. And, I suspect a very good one. Given the way people still talk about him. He had a fascinating life, as far as I can tell. Working as a staff assistant under Eisenhower, traveling the world as a missionary, eventually landing his dream job at Princeton. His portrait still hangs in his Alma Mater — a huge, gold-framed portrait in the Firestone library. He his smiling and gripping the handlebars of his beloved bike — complete with a wicker basket filled with books.

My mom, even at the end, would sporadically exclaim, “I love my father. He is such a good man.” When she barely had the language capacity of a two-year-old she would still mumble about her dad. “I love you, Dad,” I’d hear her whisper before bed. “Where’s Dad?” she would ask upon waking. Like a child eagerly awaiting the return of a parent who’d been away on a business trip.

She used to tell me stories about him. He was smart. Very well-read and well-educated without being arrogant or aloof. And, funny. The guy could really tell a joke. Or so I’m told.

My mother and her family lived in DC in the late 1950’s when my grandfather was working for Ike. Apparently, my grandfather grew bored of the long commute. So, he invented this game where you never stop at a red light. Sounds dangerous, right? Here’s how it works: You pay really close attention to the traffic lights. You have to be looking multiple blocks ahead. You can’t drive too fast or it won’t work. You watch for yellow lights. When you see yellow, you slow down. And then you slow down even more. You creep. You move at the pace of a 95-year-old woman with a cane. Never coming to a complete stop. Inch by inch, you keep the car technically “moving” until the light changes back to green.

I’m not sure how this game would work in the modern, fast-paced world. It’s one thing on those sparsely inhabited streets of the 1950’s. The game may not be suitable for the 2000’s. Just a hunch.

I’m not in too many cars. But, I do ride my bike. And, I do really hate stopping at lights. So, I use my grandfather’s game. I have the added advantage of being able to see the crosswalk. I know as soon as the red hand starts flashing, I’ve either got to excel and get through the light or slow way down so that I can coast until the light changes back to green.

It’s great fun. Sometimes I get weird looks and sometimes I’m inching into crosswalks and a bit into traffic before the light technically turns. Most of the time, it provides endless entertainment and makes me feel like I’m moving the whole time I’m riding. Makes me think about my mom and her sisters riding in the car with my grandfather. Giggling and rolling around on the back seat in their pressed, white, lacey dresses. All dressed up to play in the rose gardens. Loving their father and loving his game. It was a good childhood, I think. My mom’s and her siblings. They were happy. They had parents who loved them and who managed to keep loving each other all the way to the end. He was a good man, my grandfather. My mom was right about that.