My Daddy
I’m thinking about my Daddy today. Daddy was a machinist in the metallurgy department at the university. He was also a pretty good mechanic, and a wood and metal smith. My current studio was his workshop. I kept the floor as it was, concrete, with stains and marks from his work. I have since added my own paint stains to his. He is always with me in the studio, a great comfort as you can imagine.
He was creative, volatile, and funny. I have many of the same characteristics, passed on. I adored both of my parents, but I was closest to him. We understood each other. Both of us, just a little bit crazy.
He loved the outdoors, the natural world, and most of his friends were farmers and ranchers. He had a wonderful El Camino truck. It had what they called a glass pack muffler on it. It was loud, and a ton of fun, tearing around the country side. As I recall, it was an odd teal color.
Life was never dull with my daddy. I’ve no doubt he was sometimes a burden to my gracious, southern mamma, but she never complained. They were devoted to each other, having met in WW2 when he was a Yankee soldier.
A good daddy is a blessing for country painters...
