For some reason I don't have my sister Geraldines graduation picture.  I asked her for it and this is what she gets for not responding.  It's yuky to be left out so I'm hoping she'll comply with my request.  I don't have the official ones for Gail or Charles either.  

My friend Dale says he keeps a notebook so that he can keep all their stories straight.  It's hard enough just remembering their names.  He'll use home towns as a reference.  "Oh - she's the one from Mississippi."  Helps put two and two together.

Just so you know - Mom and Dad are Gerald and Patricia, Gail Irene, Judith Lynn, Thora Catherine, Mary Ann, Geraldine Patricia or Geri Pat, Cynthia Jean, Daniel Gerald, Linda Joan, Charles Vernon and Rebecca Sue.  

A short quiz later in this journal.  Don't get me started on all the grandkids.  Facebook has been a very helpful tool in getting them all on one page.

This is my Grandpa Church - Commander of the Coast Guard Station at Humbolt and Master Gardener at Willow Creek.  This guy had fruit trees that could make you weep.  He took us kids in every summer.  Worked us hard but then we played for hours on that gorgeous of rivers The Trinity.  On occasion we'd get pulled out of bed in the dark of morning and off in the truck we would go up the logging roads that wove the Alps of Northern California.  We had such great adventures and all the while he would be pointing off in the distance at some big bird on a limb or bear tracks or the tail end of a mountain lion as it scurried away.  And within miles of our return to the house we all hollered Hey Gramps - Turn Your Hat Around which meant we want to go really fast.  In the back of a truck 30 miles an hour seemed like an out of control slide.  

They sold that ranch when they felt too old and needed access to better health care.  My Grandfather sat in a hospital bed as a double amputee for eight years.  He begged to be taken out of there.  I'm convinced if he had known his route he would have preferred a massive coronary on B Deck with the melons and not be discovered for weeks.  HealthCare ShmelthCare - this is a lesson to be learned for us all.  Who wants to vegetate in an environment where you never get to see the stars or the seasons or hear birds or the distant swells of the sea.  We ought not to fear death so much that we put ourselves in these kinds of states.  You know how it feels after having a cold and you get yourself out of bed and start moving about newly invigorated.  Well the opposite is the life draining experience of never getting out of that bed and then slithering into that satin lining of eternity.   Resist at all costs.  Go out with a bang - smiling!

Everything from his estate was divided between his two sons.  Since my father died on Xmas day that puts my StepMother in charge and she says she wants to take a year to decide.  We are all on pins and needles wondering.  Three houses full of antiques, photos, guns, rings, trophies, cameras, journals, paintings, needle pointed stools, figurines,  medals, bibles, tools, chaise lounges, a quiver and bow.  She could haul it all off to Mexico if she so chooses.  I told him to write a will.  There may be one.  It's not the getting of things that is important.  I just know the contrast of feelings when something is given and when it is not.  That feeling will stay in our guts for ever.  A voice from beyond the grave 'Here baby, I wanted you to have this'.  If silence is all that comes the effect will be brutal.  Ten children left dumbstuck.  Any semblance of cohesion  in the bonds of heritage, heirs to our humble histories, chewed up and cast aside as unworthy children.  It comes with the territory of growing up in such a large family.  To be singled out as special was a constant issue.  Heaven for bid you should have something more than the others.  The daggers would fly.  Jealous rivalries plait our very cores.  If you got a pat on the head the others lined up 'pat me too'.  

We discussed long ago his writings.  I told him I would take them as far as they could go.  "Who do you want to play you Dad - Michael Cain, Sean Connory, Jack Nickalson?"  It would be amazing to hear it all from his perspective.  What did he think of us, what did he crave or lose in life?  I will not beg for these journals.  The fire will go out in my desire to write this story.

I am at a stage in my life where I am letting go of things.  It's not the things that I want from him.  More than anything I want for the others a gesture.  A gift from him that I know will be cherished way beyond it's intrinsic value.  A pleasant closing of a chapter - I so long for it to end that way.  

This is my Grandfather Early - one of the kindest souls that ever walked the planet.  When he was widowed Francis came along post hast.  She was very keen on hoarding every conceivable asset for her own daughter.  Thus the acres of redwood trees that surrounded my Great Grandmothers spread were timbered.  A beautiful patch of land that was home to the Hendersons, Earlys, Bugbees, and Churchills is barren and one woman holds the wealth that was gleaned from it.  It is so hideously wrong and could cause such incurable insanity if one thinks about it too much.  I don't even know Francis daughters name - in case I wanted to seek her out and give her an Indian burn on her arm.

This is my Aunt Irene.  She shot through to the other side Monday night - 10.5.09.  She and my Uncle Scunkle left the beautiful green of Eureka to come live in the valley to be near our family.  That's proof of love man.  One of my favorite books God Winks talks about synchronicity and how God is winking at us and the more you get it the more it happens.  Lovely Aunt Irene winked at me all the time.  She was just a happy hearted soul.

This is my mothers high school picture.  I just heard last night that she assisted my Aunt pass over.  Irene kept saying 'Pat's here'.  I asked my little sister Rebecca if she has had any encounters of a supernatural kind.  She said no.  We both agreed that we really thought we would have because she was into that kind of thing.  No doubt she was a consummate prayer and she is out there rallying for us.  She also played by the rules so perhaps it's frowned upon to poke the veil.  

I MISS YOU MAMA!

One of my own mosaic projects.  San Diego Home & Garden did a 7 page spread and then didn't post my contact info.  For an artist struggling in this economy that was like a bridge collapse.  Just take me out and shoot me!

You see this image all over San Diego as the greatest tribute to the fishing industry.  I for one am voting for the tuna.  Apparently there are no more big fish in the sea - tuna, salmon, bass varieties.  Meaning none of these animals grow to adulthood.  The whole idea of catch and release is cruel.  How many times does a fish have to fight for its life with a hook in its jaws so that mankind can get its rocks off.  If it takes three guys to reel in a big one I call that cheating.  I wish we could all just step off the planet for about 50 years and let things come back into balance.  Then everybody takes a course in Earth 101 before being granted reentry.  How to be a proper guest, how to not take more than you need, how to make it a mutually rewarding experience for all.  Mostly how to create and have fun without stimulants, machines or domination over others.  

The Used Muse

This is my submittal for the Day of The Dead Show at Studio Maureen in South Park (Beech St.)  Last night was the WalkAbout under a brilliant full moon and Joe Grant had a killer BlueGrass Band in his lovely store next door.  

Joe Grant took me flying earlier this year.  The windows were open and I could hang out to shoot pictures.  Will post some of those later.  Use to fly as a kid with my Dad.  Remember one early morning before the sun was up we were over the Sacramento River Delta.  It shone silver against a black background and I had no idea the place even existed.  I had been up and down that valley a thousand times.  A vast net of waterways that I hope someday to paddle around in.

So the idea behind my little darlin skeleton - she is kicking up a little dust in her favorite boots against a night sky that like no other in that desert land.  She's up to no good getting the neon to spark just to enjoy the show.  She's got an attitude - like a ghostly presence she moves around the desert unseen.  

I have a guardian angel who is also a giant.  Use to scare me as a child as no matter where I hid he always had an eye on me.  He saved my life once when I passed out in a car reeking with gas fumes.  He told me to open my eyes and then to open the door.  Clear as a bell.  I did as he said.  If I had not my friend and I would have been discovered the next morning dead.  I was brain dead for a couple of weeks.  Belching fumes and a hysterectomy down the road.

I like to visualize my giant greeting giants of other people.  A tilt of a hat, a nod.  They don't speak much.  Don't need to.  They are focused on weaving my path directed towards that which I find satisfying in life and diverting danger away.  I have tried to give him a name but nothing seems to fit.