Grandpa...

My grandfather was awesome. He lived to be 93 and was super active up until the days before his death. He was a professional photographer and was so talented he photographed with Ansel Adams. He fell out of a hot air balloon at the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta when he was 85 because he was leaning so far out of the basket trying to get the perfect shot. The only injury he incurred was a bruised hip bone and a broken arm. He flew 150 unaborted missions during WWII in a B52 bomber. He was at Normandy. My grandfather was a cartographer and was the only member of my family that understood why I was so interested in geography. Basically, my grandfather is my idol and he totally kicked ass.

Why this homage to my grandpa, you ask? Well, the janitor in my building, Terry, smells like my grandfather (a combination of hair tonic and cologne) and it kind of freaks me out. See Terry is one weird dude. He's one of those guys that seems to always back you into long drawn out conversations about football games and movies. Terry goes to Dragon Con festivals and raises pet Burmese pythons. Terry has never flown a B52 bomber and definitely is not into photography. When I told him I had a M.S. in geography, he started quizzing me on the state capitals. Terry is not the sharpest knife in the drawer and it freaks me out that his sent reminds me of one of the most fantastic people I will ever meet in my life.