I set his coffee on his workbench
and put the bagel jammed with cream cheese
on a napkin near a pile of metal discs.
These? he says, they’re medals
for the Little League team;
I gotta get going with these.
When I was small,
my father asked my grandfather
to make me a medal
because I could never win anything.
Grandpa crafted it from real silver,
round and shiny,
with a boy flexing his muscles
etched at the center.
That’s you, mensch.
A real hero!
He’s the only one who’s ever called me that.