(SHORT STORY) When I was in the ninth grade, I took a class in Human Geography with one of the most memorable teachers of my life. Richard Gross (whose name I used in this story) was a widower in his sixties who, every summer on his vacation, picked a remote place in the world to visit. He had photos hanging all over his classroom, from India to Europe to Antarctica. More powerful than the photos were the stories he told about the places and peoples he visited. This is an elaboration of one of those stories. He probably doesn't remember me, but he continues to be a major influence on my life and thinking.