Ducks. And a horse

My grandparents were born poor in western Pennsylvania, children of coal miners. More than a few of their children and grandchildren have artistic skills. My grandpa never took a class or had the opportunity to learn sculpture in an academic environment like many lucky people who became famous artists. Not to knock him or them, but so much of your life hinges on opportunity and luck, not talent. So many books have gone unwritten because the writer could never just write. And art left uncreated and songs unsung.


I’d never be able to do the things he can, just because he wanted to do them. Despite thousands of dollars in tuition and artistic training I can only come close.


I love my grandparents.


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