I feel as though I owe all my supporters an explanation for my recent absence from my blog and art making in general. I had to make a few trips back and forth from Houston to my hometown area of Alexandria, LA during the month of November. In the months before November my Dad slowly wound down his adventure in this life after long illness to prepare for his next adventure which he started on November 20th- exactly one month before his 62nd birthday. My Dad's illness began as a massive heart attack in 2003 that none of the family thought he would be able to pull through. My Dad was a fighter though. I'm not sure if I've ever met anyone as stubborn, besides myself. I hated that he had to suffer so long, but I am thankful that he got to see me with grey hair, seeing my career right before it takes off, knowing that I'm happy, and he got to meet and know his grandchildren. I loved my Dad even though we didn't have the closest of relationships. We held no animosity either. I learned many things from my Dad through his actions more than his words. I learned the meaning and value of doing acts of kindness without expecting anything in return. I learned the meaning of honesty and integrity through his relationship with my Mother. My family went through many hard times in my upbringing mainly concerning illness and financial stability. My Dad was always there for us and we never went without what we needed. He did what he had to do. However, I think the most important lesson he taught me was the value of Character. He always instilled in me(and my siblings) to be ourselves. He told us to stand up for our beliefs even if he didn't agree. He ingrained in us to not care what others may think of us, which helped me a great deal when I came out at 18. He was the first person I ever told, even though I'm sure he knew. He always encouraged me to live my dream. He encouraged me to make art as a child and as an adult. During our last visit, I had a chance to sit and talk with my Dad for a couple of hours. It was the longest one on one conversation I had with him since I was probably 15. I never found talking to my Dad a particularly easy task. He was guarded and stuffed emotions, while I, in contrast, am an open book. Our talk went well though. There were some misunderstandings that were cleared up, and we just talked about life- his recent struggles, and what was going on in mine. He brought up a subject during our chat that's been ongoing between my parents and me for the past 7 years. He asked me how I could live in Houston- or any large city for that matter. He simply never could understand my need for an urban environment. Having said that, I would like to share a very nice memory of me and my Dad that I spoke about at his gathering(wake).
When I was 4 years old, my pediatrician detected a heart murmur while listening to my heartbeat. I had tests done and they concluded I would require intervention and repair to live. The only surgeon capable of doing that surgery in Louisiana at that time worked at Tulane Medical Center in New Orleans, LA. My parents drove us down to New Orleans and had my surgery done. I have a few not-so-pleasant memories from that experience, but also several good ones. One in particular stood out. I apparently was getting restless in my hospital room, so my Dad found a red wagon, loaded me up into it and started pulling me around the hospital- through hallways and up and down elevators. Then, he decided to take me to the rooftop, which was not allowed(pls. see above about stubbornness). When we got there and he held me up to where I could see over the bricks real well, I was instantly fascinated. I had never before seen skyscrapers or heard that many sounds at one time- people, cars, birds, emergency vehicles, etc. I was instantly intrigued and my love affair with urban life was born. I only remembered it after I left our last visit and thought "Wow, that's ironic." My Dad loved, and was loved, and that is the most important thing.
