First, a word about his name. Gradoe was born the same year as I was, 1954. Thereabouts. I’ve known Gradoe since our college days, many years, and yet somehow I still don’t know him very well. Sometimes I feel that the mystery comes from Gradoe – I wonder how well he knows himself. His birth, for example. The few times he has hinted at his age, it pointed to the 1954 birth year. His birthday date, I never got the slightest hint. I don’t think he knows his birthday. He certainly doesn’t celebrate it.

But the name. Grado, of course is a headphone manufacturer located in Brooklyn New York. The company was founded in 1953. That much fits. Perhaps his parents had a set of high quality Grado headphones, in the room where he was born? Who knows. I never met Gradoe’s parents. If Gradoe is a mystery wrapped in a nutshell, his parents are certainly the root and branches that produced the nut.

Earcup is his middle name. Of his family name I have absolutely no clue, I did ask Gradoe once I got only stony silence.1 Another time I asked his about the “e” appended to Grado, and he turned away mumbling something about trademark infringment.

My wife Mary loves Gradoe of course, but hates the name Earcup, and I think that Gradoe may agree with her. I could ask him…

Gradoe just told me some new jokes he wrote…

Q: How can you tell if a Republican is lying?

A: If he’s a Republican. 2

Q: What are a Republican’s pronouns?

A: Brain Dead and Deplorable.3

February 14, 2023 == I got a text from Gradoe today, which is unusual. He calls me once in a while, but rarely texts. “Dahman, I’ve got some news”. I should explain. He calls me Dahman (when he calls me anything). When I got my amateur radio license, a long time ago, I had to learn morse code and pass a test. Gradoe thought it was ridiculous. “What kind of idiot turns himself into a human modem?” he said. I had no answer other than, “It’s kind of fun,” which didn’t help at all. After that he called me Mr Dits and Dahs, then shortened it to Ditanddahman, then finally Dahman, and that’s what he’s called me for a long time.

Dahman, he texted, I’m off the grid.

Gradoe, I texted back, you just sent me a text. You’re not off the grid.

Oh yes I am. Grid be gone, he texted back.

Where are you, Gradoe?

No cell phone towers nearby. No bars here.

Then how are you sending texts? What happened to your iPhone?

No comment. The iPhone is no longer an iPhone. It’s not involved. Some useful parts.

Gradoe, what are you doing? Where are you? I was getting a little concerned.

Silence. That was the last I’ve heard from him, almost two weeks ago. Every day I wake up a little more worried about him.


Footnotes
  1. Not an unusual response from Gradoe. ↩
  2. George Santos. ↩
  3. Unusual language for Gradoe, surprising… ↩