Let me tell you about Comet Jo.
My maternal grandparents were lost when Tampa Florida was wiped from the map when I was twelve. They were retired "Canadian SnowBirds" who wintered there. My Grandfather was a very gregarious businessman. Although small in stature he was larger than life. He was a Cordwainer: Don't you dare say cobbler. Cobblers repair shoes. A Cordwainer makes shoes from scratch. He had a prestigious shoe store near the financial district where he did well making bespoke shoes. Whenever we visited or they called on us, he'd always bellow "Hello Josephs!" As a toddler, I'd parrot it, saying "Hello Joe, hello Joe, hello Joe…" Then he'd say a little rhyme " Hello Joe, what do you know? I just got back from Kokomo." The "Hello, Joe" got me my nickname, Joe. The summer I was sixteen and laid up with broken legs I had nothing to do. I wound up reading Dad's extensive library of vintage science fiction and fantasy books, or otherwise delv