Wednesday, January 28, 2009


oil on canvas

My father was a man of few words. He was very imposing, moody, funny, sullen and on occasion philosophical. My mother loved to gossip. She'd prattle on and on about some poor soul while his head was buried in the latest Mickey Spillane pulp fiction. When she realized he hadn't been listening, she'd demand to know what he thought about the subject of her slander. He'd look up from his book, brow furrowed, a weary look on his face and heavy sigh: ......"Well, it's his 'lil red wagon, I guess he can push or pull it."

This little red wagon once held an 18-pack of double A batteries. I bought it in honor of Pop. It now sits on my desk, packed with clear plastic push pins.

By the way, I have a great excuse for not posting since last week this time. Two words. Jury duty. Arrrrrgh!

1 comment:

  1. This painting brings back wonderful child hood memories. That is a sign of a great painting when it moves your thoughts.


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