I love Rick Steves’ guidebooks. Without them I would never have known of the Chagall museum in Nice or how to count on my fingers anywhere in Europe.

I love Rick Steves’ politics. I grew a major brain crush on him and Arther Frommer when they were talking about how ridiculous it is that the US government restricts our travel to Cuba. They both see it as a stupid and unconstitutional form of government interference.

I love Rick Steves’ form of religion. He’s the type of progressive Christian, like my darling cousin, that makes me feel a wee bit bad for lumping fundies in with them. Then the fundies say yet another stupid thing and well, I stop feeling bad.

I love Rick Steves’ generosity. He bought a large apartment building in Everett as an investment, but instead of renting it at market rates, he leased the whole building for 20 years to a program that provides transitional housing to homeless mothers and children.

And while I am not a pot smoker, I love Rick Steves’ for the infomercial he stars in that has been haunting late night television. It is a smart, well informed tirade against marijuana laws. All from the least likely person to ever be busted for sporting an eighth.

He’s a wee bit too wholesome for me to completely crush on him, but the world would b e a much sadder place without people like him in it.