Cut grass smells different in the east than it does in Texas. You would think the smell of cut grass might be universal. On the other hand, they're different grasses, so I guess it stands to reason that they'd smell different. I guess I can't speak for all of the east, but whenever I smell grass being cut in Maryland, or the greater DC metro area, it reminds me of helping my grandpa mow the lawn as a kid.

I used to love to help my grandpa with fix-it or maintenance projects around the house. It would be hot (it was always during the summer months that I would visit my grandparents) and we would sweat and get dirty - like men. We walked around without our shirts off. Sometimes, we grunted.

My grandpa tackled every project as though he were under a deadline, even in his retirement. He worked hard while he was working, but he also loved to take breaks. "Ready to take five?" he would say. And we would go inside where he would have a couple cups of coffee. He would tell my grandmother that David wanted some cookies and would she get down the box of social teas for David and, well, as long as he was having some, I might as well have a few as well. I can honestly say that his eyes would sparkle when he said it. He dipped his social teas in his coffee. Two dips, then in his mouth. I let mine soak in my milk until they were almost ready to fall apart, then I would carefully bring it to my mouth and let it dissolve there on my tongue. Sometimes I would wait too long and the biscuit would fall off into my milk. Letting this happen was part of the fun, because I would get to scoop out the leftover soppy mess at the bottom of the glass when I was done.

After we fueled up on sugar and caffeine, we were at it again. My grandpa was particular about the right way of doing things. He taught me not to cut corners. One summer we painted a fence together. It was important to apply the paint in just the right way, and to do a good job sanding before the paint was applied. As he got older, I think he became a little less patient and probably cut a few corners here and there, but who could fault him? When you're over 75 you have that right. Nobody could deny that deep down he was a man of principle, not only in the way he handled work, but in the way he handled his relationships with others. I don't think it's a stretch to say that everybody liked my grandfather. If you met him, you liked him.

When I was very young, I called him Pop-pop. His smile meant everything to me. I was lucky to be beside him when he died, lucky to be able to hold his hand, lucky to say goodbye.

There are loads of other stories I can, and someday will, tell about him. He was a role model to me as a boy, and I still look up to him today. Sometimes when I get angry or frustrated by certain circumstances in my life, it helps to remember him and think about what he might have done in the situation.

And sometimes I just think about him when somebody is mowing the lawn.

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