My Grandfather's Talent.

Here's a nice example of my grandad's painting talent. My mom's dad.  He produced a lot of paintings. Sadly, he died when I was about six months old, so I never knew him.  Too bad.

This is something I recall my mom telling me:  

My mom was the younger of two daughters. She didn't have the best relationship with her mom. Or her grandmother (the pipe warden's wife).  Her dad was really cool with her, but still there were tensions.

She grew up. Studied and became a registered nurse. Got married. Had me. Moved out of NYC.

A few months into my life, she went to the country house (that the pipe warden built) up in Putnam County, NY.  Kitchen downstairs with double dutch doors going out to the hand pump well. Field stone walls.  Exposed beams. Checked table cloths.  Me in the baby carrier on the table.  My mom and her mom and grandma are in the kitchen with me.  My mom's dad walks through and stops to tickle my chin. I cry.  He kisses me and walks out.  My mom's grandma comes over and I stop crying and she says, "That's right, you don't want that bad man by you."

Revelation.  My mom realized how swayed against her dad she'd been by this woman's off-handed remarks.  Right then, she decided to make good with her dad by building their relationship on her own, with her own truths and emotions and no outside influences.

That Monday, he went to the city to have a scope put into his lungs to check a spot.  It scraped his aorta and he bled out on the table right then.  My mom lost her chance.

I'll always remember that story and it's always given me motivation and inspiration to keep it real w/ my family and friends.