Since you’ve already met my mom, I figured it’d be a good weekend to share a dad story. I don’t have too many of these since he passed away when I was very young, but there’s one I always enjoy hearing. Of course, my mom tells it better, my version is much less detailed and much shorter. So the story goes that my dad was walking and came across his friend in some sort of quarrel with a couple of guys. Naturally, being the loyal friend and courageous fighter of justice I imagine him to be (but really, it is likely it was just a something he, as a young man, thought would be fun), he stepped in and started helping his friend without asking any questions. Soon after, as they were arresting him for throwing rocks at them, he found out that the men that his buddy was fighting were actually cops. My mom tells me that during his resulting brief stint in jail, she would go hang out under his cell window in the evenings and they would chat into the night. I like knowing that he was a bit of a hellraiser :) Not that I condone throwing rocks at cops. Or anyone, really. But it’s nice to know that he lived in the moment and made silly mistakes :) He was the subject of a piece I did back in 2009 (it’s a drawing of the second photo above). It was one of the very few pieces I had no trouble parting with, as I passed it on to someone who knew him much better than I did and who has been a big part of my life as well.
Side note, I can’t help but to point out that my footwear was stylish even as a baby. Judging by those red socks, I think I got this impeccable fashion sense from my dad :)