I tell a lie. Not everybody calls me Grumpish. Just those close enough to know that this affectionate nickname came from my nephew’s a three-year-old daughter. I asked Mila’s mother what her small fry just said when looking me square in the eye. “I think she just called you Grumpish.” And I remain “Grumpish” five years later and hopefully for many years to come.

One of my all-time Christmas gifts was a t-shirt with the word “Grumpish” scrolled across the chest. And here comes today’s message.