Whenever Grandpa was about to head off to go fishing we would wish him good luck.
He would always look back at us and scoff and say, “Luck? Ha! I make my own luck!”
Then he’d head back to his little workshop for most of the day to work with his chemicals.
He never made any luck. Never went fishing either.
I just thought I’d remind people of that since everybody seems to be putting him up on a pretty high pedestal now that he’s made the impossible possible.