I think Mr. Baumann (Sr.) hits so hard for me because... I have almost no memory of my grandfather's voice. My paternal grandfather, to be clear -- my maternal one died when she was 19, and it was 19 years later that I would even be born. But my paternal grandfather lived to be 96. He died when I was 27. And even then...
I have only one clear memory of his voice.
My aunts -- the oldest and youngest of my dad's three sisters -- are both crafty types, so they tended to bond with me and my brother, their only niblings, the only grandchildren, by doing crafts with us over the holidays. And one year, I don't even remember how old we all were, the kit they bought was tie-dye T-shirts. They even made sure to get extra large shirts at the craft store because we were all (except the youngest aunt) so much taller than most craft kits expected.
My brother and I each got to make two shirts each. And I don't remember anything else about that afternoon except that, when I put on one of the shirts -- the one I'd done in green, my second-favorite color, and the shirt had turned out not as good as the one I'd done in purple and blue, my favorites -- I showed it off to my grandfather. We were in the back yard of his house, the house he'd built specifically to raise his children in. And Grandpa, grinning, pointed right into the center of my chest, and said in his slow Texas drawl,
"That there's a bunny that got hit by a car."
Chat, my mother and aunties were appalled, but I laughed and laughed my little butt off until I couldn't breathe.
That's the memory that always comes to mind when I think of my grandfather. And Mr. Baumann (Sr.) reminds me of him so, so much.
"Nostalgic visual novel" indeed.