CEdo 530 - Blog Entry 4

This week's class showed me Prezi, which looks like it has a ton of potential.

But honestly, I'd be a liar if that's what I'm thinking about.  An hour and a half ago, I got the word that my Grandfather passed away.  It is preoccupying my thoughts, and I'm having a hard time pushing that aside to talk about class.  So I'm going to talk about my Grandpa.

His name was Gus.  He was a tough old bird.  When he immigrated to the States in the 50's, he set about his life caring about 4 things; his family, his community, burning peat moss, and drinking Jameson (and usually in that order).  I would remember as a kid, my parents would drive us to Chicago for family functions, usually Christmas.  We would all be sitting in his house, but unless he was working the ham, he was nowhere to be found.  I once asked where he was, and I was directed to the basement.  So I thought I'd go visit Grandpa down there, and as soon as I hit the staircase, I was hit by a smell I could only describe as wet skunk.  I would reach the bottom and see my Grandpa, along with many of my uncles, sitting around a table nursing shots of whiskey.  And burning on the stove next to him would be a chunk of peat, shipped to him from Ireland.  I always hated that smell, but when I traveled to Ireland last year, I ended up coming to like (no, LOVE) the smell of burning peat.  I look forward to honoring my Grandpa by getting some peat myself and stinking up my house, and likely the neighbors as well.  I'm not looking forward to the likely many shots of Jameson that I will have to drink at the wake that I am sure will be sometime early next week, though.  I hate the stuff, and I hope no one will be offended if I nurse mine.

This is one of many stories I have of my Grandpa Gus.

That felt good.