Speaking of post hole diggers, my Grandpa Joe (my Mom's dad) was terribly hard of hearing (not a non sequitur, I promise). My father called him to ask to borrow a fishing pole, as he was going to have a manly weekend of fishing and drinking beer and eating jerky. Grandpa answered the phone and this was the conversation:
Dad: "Hi Joe. Your sons and I are going fishing. Do you have a fishing pole I could borrow?"
Grandpa: "A what?"
Dad: "Fishing pole, Joe."
Grandpa: "Post hole?"
Dad: "No, Joe, a fishing pole!"
Grandpa: "A post hole digger?"
Dad (very loudly): "FISHING POLE!"
Grandpa: "No, I don't have a post hole digger, but Norm might."
Norm was Grandpa and Grandma's neighbor.
I miss Grandpa so much.