Who taught you Research? "Forever in Bluejeans"-Neil Diamond

Growing up, my grandfather, my Gaby, was a proud and giving gentleman. He had a woodshop for all the cousins to transform PVC pipe into bow and arrows, wood into bowls, and curiosity- knowledge- into considerate, self-determination. He had boats and cars and fossils and books for us to explore; but always with a sense of regard. Those boats were anchored, so that no cousin too young would row too far. The cars meant stewardship, so that no bubbles lay in the paint during an excited inclusion in its restoration. And the books were a journey. No matter what we read, he shared that we would never truly be the same as when we first opened that book... That is knowledge. I think of research now, like I thought of those books then. A journey of obliviousness to a place of realization- even if only a nascent comprehension. He continued his generosity as I grew older, supplying books, tools or questions towards whatever field of interest I had- the endeavors of Scotland, mummies, Einstein, astronomy, archaeology, etc. If you had asked my sister what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would say, "pokemon trainer." I would look you dead in the eye and say, "I'm gonna be a forensic anthropologist." I must've sounded silly, but my Gaby would look at me right back and say, "Ok, then let's get to work." He never finished his education. He left high school to work, provide for a family, and ultimately see the world. I think that's why he loved the power of knowledge, of learning. It's why he took me to stare at the stars and pointed out each of the constellations he would use to sail by. It's why we traded books on positive universalism, the biographies of Gertrude Bell and contexts for scholarship & borders in the Middle East, and Milo & his journey to the Kingdom of Wisdom. We never investigated the chemistry, microbiology, hydrology, or ecology that now frames my research, but he taught me exactly how to engage with a world of unknowing- from a perspective of unknowing.