I never light up without remembering my Pappy and his perpetual pipe packed with Granger. World War Two minesweeper skipper, out-dated fedora, lumberjack shirt on every weekend during the cooler months, endless debates with his adolescent son (me), cook for our Sunday dinners with absolute minimal kitchen ware with one memorable double boiler, the little sailboat he built in the basement and painted blue and rigged with a red sail, and rope work he could do like a real old salt. One of a kind.