My Father

(on finding xeroxed copies of notes/things from my father: i'd made these copies shortly after his passing w/ copies for all my siblings... and, lo and behold, they reappeared to me, unexpectedly.)...

among the many gifts and blessings my beautiful kind father left with me, in me, he left i realized just 2 days ago for the first time in my life, this thing about scribbling, writing, making notes, drawing, doddling with the pen or whatever writing instrument was at hand... I have always always had this in me, even my signature since I was 13-14 or so is the same and it was inspired by my father's pride in his signature, which to me contained so much power and beauty. my father was always writing something in his notebooks, songs and poems (some of which I believe he came up with), on pieces of paper he left around the house for my mother, and for me and my 6 siblings - chores, things to do. he noted the exact date and time a cow would give birth (do cows give birth?) and immediately named the calf, noting its weight and all.... he even, a long time ago before he died, named a cow madonna. my father named a cow madonna: i find this rather humorous. and his madonna had many babies, but i get offpoint somewhat. really... he noted the day a certain crop was planted, who worked the fields, how much they were to get paid, etc. etc. he kept records of everything household, and everything else, for our family. i've finally tied my own love for words, handwriting, scribbling, making drawings, and more, to my father. that man i wish i could truly aspire to be more like in so many ways. in his own way, without quite knowing, he gave me (inspired me toward) the gift of art. and a peaceful place to express things years later through words on my art work and through other kinds of expressions.
my father.