Archive for the ‘History Lessons’ Category

Change: pt.1

by on Friday, August 7th, 2015

It’s inevitable. Change. As unstoppable as the tides and as determined as waves beating down the edges of a shoreline.

I’m in it now. I see it as clearly as my hand in front of my face. The tides are pulling me.

A little history first: Family dynamics are an interesting thing. In mine,  the dynamics have remained- for the most part- the same since I became an adult. As Nana, our matriarch, rounds the curve into her one hundredth year (97 next week and still going strong) we all still pussyfoot around her rules and standards of perfection. But as the rest of us are aging, we have ripened into solid characters. Our roles in the family are developed and strong now. Our positions in the dynamic field, solid.

Allow me to clarify. Last week was my petite family’s reunion. There are 15 of us. If my brother was still part of the picture he and his family would make 18. Without him, we are a small bunch, not a crop. Hardly even a grove. Nana is the head and has been for a quarter century-since my grandfather died on a trip to Russia. Next in line come my mom and her sister. Both in their 70’s and both struggling with illnesses that will eventually take their lives. Of the next generation, there are 3 of us. My two cousins- the eldest and her family: a faithful husband of nearly 23 years and two sons, 22 and 16. Her brother never married but I count his girlfriend/companion  in the mix. The last 5 of our bunch include me, my husband, 2 adult children, and my daughter’s beau.

As far as dynamics go, the two sisters’ lung diseases have become a constant part of our lives-something they have been dealing with for ten or more years. The serious nature of the illness (both are diagnosed with mico-bacteria infections, asthma, and chronic pneumonia symptoms) has led us to consider that Nana will out live them both. But then what happens?

Though is seems closer than ever, the inevitable change, the deaths of the three matriarchs will come when it comes. I cherish every moment with them now. I try to learn as much as I can from them, conscious of what they contribute. I’m able to put a positive spin on the lessons they teach.  FYI, my learning process has always been a little backwards. I tend to first see the negative, (That’s the controlling, narcissistic part of our family dynamics shining through.) then I put my own positive spin on things: ie, this is what NOT to do.

What I’m struggling with isn’t really even important in the grand scheme of things.  Given the way things are in the hierarchy, the matriarchal matrix of our family, when the top three decline, the logical next “ruler” should be my eldest cousin- the one with the family. She should be the one to organize gatherings and pick us up when we are down. She should be the one to care take the sick and elderly, and help them organize and prepare. As it turns out, she is sick too.

I (well, yes I’ve seen it coming) am the only member of my generation capable of care-taking and organizing. I am the only one who can step up to the plate when the shit hits the proverbial fan. I am the one giving support where it’s needed. I am the advice giver, teacher and nursemaid. I am the leader.

This realization has come to me slowly. For many years I’ve been in denial, thinking that my cousin would magically recover from her mental illness and become responsible. I have let her brother manage things. He doesn’t enjoy it, but he lives in the same city they do. And I have stayed away.

Tides change. I am beginning to see the need for me to step up and take on this role of leader/caregiver/head of family. It is staring me in the face. It is calling me to duty. My mother is very sick now.

Road trip, to my future life.

by on Friday, July 25th, 2014

Yet another Writer’s Conference weekend. Today I’m at Ball State Univ. at the Writer’s Workshop. It seems funny to me that I have come all this way, all the way back to my roots for new beginnings. Let me explain.

Ball State is not my Alma Mater (help me spell this!), and this isn’t where I grew up. Muncie is where my family is from. It’s where my gene pool began to make history with containers for eggs and glass jars for canning.  They were a creative bunch of kids who had ideas to change the world. Back then, the world needed changing too.

Creativity runs in my family, like brown eyes and music also run through us.  It is what we do. We draw and paint. We make things new. We design and we play instruments. And, we write.

My grandmother wrote three books, an autobiography, a book called The Love of Music and a bio about my grandfather. My mom wrote a couple little books about her life and things she went through. And my aunt is a poet.

For the past two weeks I’ve been working on a project for my grandmother’s 96th birthday. I’ve renewed an old scrapbook of hers and reprinted pictures. In the process, I got to know her as a young woman in her college days. It was sweet to see the cards from numerous suitors, and all the playbills from shows she saw in New York at Carnegie Hall and on Broadway. It made me feel more connected to her as a person and helped me get to know her better, dismissing the overbearing critical teacher that I remember. I got a chance to see what her dreams were, and pictures of her as a young creative woman with hopes and dreams.

Back to my roots. I traveled here alone for some much needed away time and from here I go to Culver for a day or two alone there then a reunion with my family. I get days of writing and time for me (for a change), and re-connection with the past. This is a perfect place for me to be. I hope to visit some of the family homes on Sunday and see the house my Grandmother grew up in. It’s a museum now and inspiration for many people. For me it is my heritage, connecting the past to the future.


“We’ll make you want to hit us.”

by on Thursday, November 28th, 2013

Things have not been the same at the dojo for a few weeks now. Around the beginning of the month, when the Quiet Samurai left for Antarctica,  we began to  increase the intensity of our training in hand to hand combat. In fact, it was at the bar where we had going away drinks for our friend that one of the instructors told me flat out, I needed to start hitting people harder in training. I resisted, of course, that has been one of the hardest things for me to learn how to do. I don’t like doing it. I don’t want to hurt anyone and it feels like it goes against my nature to punch someone in the face. The funny thing is, I don’t think I could hurt any of them if I tried.

So I went home that night and stewed on the idea, and it occurred to me that none of them hit me. In fact, several of them are super gentle with me. So how am I supposed to have any clue how hard to hit them when they treat me like a flower? At the next class I put it back in my teacher’s pocket, so to speak. I told him that he and the rest would have to be able to hit me too. A consensus was reached. We all needed to hit harder.

That was about two weeks ago. Intensity has been slowly building in class too, I’m trying harder, not sure if I’m succeeding. I don’t think hand to hand combat will ever be my thing. And this Monday I felt the truth of that hit home. We’ve had some really good classes lately. We’ve practiced a lot with the Bo Staff, I’m getting really comfortable with that. We also worked with a Jute, or short stick.  We had an 8th Don Black belt come down and train with us and even a couple from Sweden who have been training for twelve years. They were very good, very helpful, throwing out many insights to the art.

In fact, it was the night that they visited that I had my big wake up call. It was a big class, there were ten of us. Everyone was training hard, I came late and knew instantly that we were going at a higher level than  before. Mark was showing off harder wasa using more difficult moves. Things I’d never seen before. I was doing all right, I followed everything fine. The first thing I remember was practicing punching directly at  Uke’s face. (Uke is the name for your opponent, usually the one who ends up on the floor) The exercise was to have intention.

A couple newer members of the dojo, two guys I haven’t trained a lot with were all pumped up that night too. Apparently they never got the memo to train lightly with me. But that’s ok, this is what I’ve been working towards. One of them took several hard hits at my arm, finally after he hit a nerve and made a welt on my elbow, I had to take a break for a couple minutes. It pissed me off though, since he had been hitting me hard, I got mad and yelled at him that we were training, it wasn’t a real fight. He kept it up though and every time we were paired up he beat on me harder. His friend too, who I don’t think likes women very much, takes me down like he’s trying to make me quit altogether.

I guess that was the little light bulb in my head that put me over the edge. Between the two of them, my ninja sense told me that they would prefer I don’t come to class. They would like me to quit. I felt in my heart that ultimately, that was their intention. And, that was what made me really angry. I went home pissed off. I was angry and wanted to cry. And when I talked to Mike about it, he wanted to come to class and beat them up for me. Which made me angrier. For one thing, the point of my training is so that I can beat them up!!! The last thing I want is for someone to come out and protect the little woman who is unable to help herself. F*#^ that!

I never did cry. Well, except when I posted a comment on FB that I hated training and was trying not to cry, trying not to  be such a girl, and my instructor reached out to me. Then I cried a little. But besides that, all the frustration and anger makes me want to train harder. It makes me want to kick their puny little asses. (In and out of class.)  Ok, that’s probably not too healthy, but Josh E. said it best. That night, when I was still fishing my punches at him, he told me, “We’ll make you want to hit us.” And this from one of the guys who I feel friendship from. Something deep inside me is hurt by that comment, but I know with all my heart (and ninja sense) that he is trying to help advance my training.

Now I’m crying. Because I’ve finally found the bottom line. It’s right there, all wrapped up in what Josh said to me. Because I know what it’s like to want to hit someone you love. I know what it is to be so angry that you want to hurt that friend badly. For me, it’s the main reason I train. Because there is someone who I love, that I am that angry with.

You’re an asshole Bryan. I’m sick of you hurting my family, our family. Bujinkan is my therapy for dealing with my emotions for you, brother. I hate you. I love you. You make me want to hit you.

No Words

by on Tuesday, October 29th, 2013

Life goes on, yet things stay the same. You call and rage over the phone to our family, you’re angry and you don’t ask for help or answers. You act as if you know why things are this way or that way, you are a victim. Just like dad was.  Are you some kind of special person? Are you so deserving that you should get more than any one else?

If you would listen, we would explain, but all you have are accusations and blame. There are no words that can appease you now, your hate is too great. And you are blameless. You have had no hand in this, your life, it is all someone else’s fault. It’s too bad that you fell for the lies that were fed you by our father. An alcoholic who had no sense of reality. He told me once that Maggots came from meat. Flies are the spawn of rotting meat he said. Isn’t that what they believed in the dark ages? He was crazy too, just like you.

I believe that’s where you live now. In the dark. If you would call, I would have words for you…to explain. I don’t think you would hear me though. It has all gone black for you. And for me too.

Now I have no words for you.


Apologies Due

by on Friday, September 13th, 2013

Writing is a dangerous sport. Blogging, even more so. I should have realized that last year when my love read over the first draft of my book. He told me that he liked it…but that was the grain of salt that came with weeks of fighting over the criticism due to my poor writing style.  It was all good in the end, everything he said was exactly what I needed to hear, but I just hadn’t wanted to hear it from him.  Goddess bless him, he has not wanted to read any more of my verbal spillage since then. I can’t blame him for that.

My husband, my lover, my best friend. The man I cannot imagine a life without, not even in my wildest fantasies. So he had some things to say about the organisation of the novel, and the character development and the plot, and the grammar, and well, just about everything. I know, I know, but he liked it. Criticism is hardest when it comes from the ones you love. I of all people should know that the best. My family is famous for their “tough love.” That’s putting it in nice terms for those of you who don’t know them.

But a few days ago I posted a blog entry titled Air Confined. Deleted now, I posted it without editing it and without thinking much about what I was saying.  For some odd reason, after a year of ignoring my pleas to read some of my junk, my dearest husband decided to read the unbridled hurtful entry.  I realize now that remarks I made therein made it seem that I was preparing for some disastrous event, or worse, preparing to leave Michael. That is not at all the case.

The words (rearranged, these letters also spell a different word, which could be substituted here: sword) which poured from my fingertips were actually interrupted stream of consciousness. Typically when I write in the morning, I go back and forth between emails, and discussing the day with my beloved, getting breakfast and tending to the dog. Many interruptions. This particular entry was about me and what I have discovered about my nature. That I am an air sign, (read, ‘head in the clouds’) tied to the earth by lots of grounding Taurus (read, ‘feet planted, stubbornly’). I am not fire, burning with desire, or water, able to flow or carve out a new path. This is what I know about myself.

What I wrote didn’t seem to be new information to anyone who has known me for a long time, rather, I thought it was more of a clarification. A clarification to myself. I never in a million years expected Mike to read what I now realize was disjointed thoughts, gummed together in a way that missed the mark entirely. And worse, was easily misconstrued.

We are in the midst of change, Michael and I. Our children have moved out, we are getting some things done to the house. Our furniture is being moved all about and when it is done, it will seem like we are beginning an entirely new life together. With a new future. It feels good, really good to be going that road together, finally. But it’s hard for me to sit and wait for it when I can easily envision what I fore see as our future. I love changes and long for them ultimately. I find it fun and exhilarating too, as hard as it is for me to move my feet.

In that last entry I described myself as a tree, rooted to the ground, with my head in the clouds. It fits, I am comfortable with that description.  And I hope to stay rooted to Michael, in our very grounding relationship, forevermore. He completes me. Where I am lacking, he fills me in. Where I am deficient, he pours in love. I can only hope that I do as much for him, though after causing him so much pain, I really don’t think that’s possible.

I love you “mon sweet.” I am sorry.



Envy, Narcissism and Honor

by on Tuesday, April 16th, 2013

I’m currently reading the most awesome Memoir called A Real Emotional Girl by Tanya Chernov. It’s a very well written story about her father’s death and how it effected her personally. I met the author this last weekend at a Writer’s Conference here in town. She spoke about the process of getting published on a panel with her agent and editor. I liked her right away because of her easy ability to laugh at herself even though the subject of this particular novel is pretty dark. She also did a session on ‘Staying sane, while writing the insane’ which I found extremely funny and uplifting. She was profoundly motivating for me since most of what I write lately is in the category of the ‘dark’.

The novel is from her point of view during her young adulthood. Her father was diagnosed with colon cancer when she was just almost 17. In reading it, I am filled with sorrow at the situation he had to go through, which they all went through. And I am filled with envy and jealousy of how loving her family is. She is the youngest of 3, her brothers 5 and 7 years older than she. As his surgeries and procedures continued through the years, it seemed like their family grew closer together even though they were all growing up and in different directions. She talks about being a rebel, and doing things that caused her family pain, but I think my own mom can attest to the fact that not much can compare to what I put her through in high school and beyond. (Nothing that is until my own brother went off the deep end.)

But I can’t get over how they all pulled together to be with her dad. They spent almost six months in a cabin up North waiting for him to die; watching him slowly slip away, and most horrifying of all, after he had stopped eating and drinking, it still took him another 18 days to pass on through.  None of them thought twice about pulling out, or going somewhere else. Well, she did once and regretted it horribly afterwards. I found myself envying their love and admiration for each other  and their ability to stand in support of each other and the father. I don’t begrudge what she had to go through, in all honesty, I wouldn’t wish those circumstances on anyone. But I also know with a certainty that something like that could never happen within my small family. And I could only hope that my own children would be so selfless.

Of course, we would all be there for each other. In a way. We would be there for the one dying as we were with both my dad’s passing and Mike’s dad too. In different ways, we stood by them both. But I feel that we are all perhaps too narcissistic to put ourselves out for any length of time.  To really stand by, to give up everything and wait. And wait. The family I’m reading about is, I believe, uniquely unselfish. Giving and loving each other to the max. Though I can put myself in this woman’s shoes, they don’t fit me at all. Unfortunately, there just isn’t the same level of un-self-centered being where I come from. Regretfully, I include myself in that list of selfish people.

Perhaps there is time to change. Perhaps, in time, we all change. For so many years, I gave everything of myself to my family and children, so much that I’m now in the faze I call “My Turn”. But if it came down to it, of course, I would be there for you. For my family. Unselfishly casting off my current cloak of Narcissism. For you. Because I love you.

In many ways I can relate to her youthful angst, and it makes me think that someday I will want to tell my story too. Someday I’ll have to. There are some really great characters in my story! And wow, did we have fun. I admire Chernov for putting it all together in such a way. Though it is from her perspective, it seems to be from the collective point of view too. As if she is sharing even the telling of the story, as they all shared the experience. It makes me more aware of something I’ve known for a long time, that everyone goes through it differently. We each will have our own way of going through it.  In that, I believe, there is honor.

New Age Psychosis II

by on Monday, December 19th, 2011

So this week I decided to share my site with a couple friends.  It wasn’t an easy decision to make either, considering this is mostly personal shit that spews from my fingertips.  Since I made the decision to write here, I wanted to make it a meaningful journey through the sludge in my mind.  Sometimes that is difficult, the sludge can be pretty thick at times.

Today I was reconsidering that article on teenage brains again, this time from the point of view of looking at me and lessons I learned, and the sludge.  I figured that during the time your brain is completing those neural pathways you are also (duh) deciding who you are and making  important choices about life.  So what choices did I make?  “Who”  am I?  Also, what am I trying to say here and is it valuable to anyone else?

Well in my young adulthood I took several “new age” classes on self “improvement”.  I love all the quotation marks because at the time it was very important work, that is, to improve yourself.  I wonder what I actually learned?  I say “I wonder” because I have no idea what goes on in other peoples’ brains, but here I am now and I spend a great deal of time working out my dealings with people, and worrying about how I am perceived.  It is as important to me how I say it as the impact it has…with every thing.  I have conversations with people before I have the conversation. Then I have the conversation again later in my head.  Frequently I check in on me to make sure I didn’t create bad feelings.   I will relive conversations in my mind, sometimes in the middle of the night staring at the blackness in my bedroom.   Now I am just sounding crazy.  Am I too self absorbed?  I can’t really call it narcissism, cause I don’t really feel the love here, but there is way too much self focus going on.  Bottom line is that I want to be able to speak  openly without worrying that people I love will leave me because of what I have said.

I think what I learned in those “emotion release therapy sessions” and other questionable psychiatric evaluative group commune classes is to be careful.  I learned that I was a fucked up individual, but aren’t we all?  I learned to question my inner beliefs and scrutinize my behavior or someone else will.  Well it seems like those lessons were what imprinted on my brain cells because here I am years later still questioning…call it worrying…how I affect others.   (Mom I’m not blaming you for any participation in this, call it my “New Age Disclaimer”, it wasn’t your fault.)

All that probably didn’t come from the classes alone  I’m sure some of it had to do with growing up with an alcoholic dad.  (maybe most?)  But do other people self monitor?  I don’t know.  It does feel really good to get it out on “paper”.   And so I write and tromp through the sludge like shoveling so much heavy slushy snow.  Clear it away so I can begin to feel normal. Because sometimes the critical voice in my head is much too loud and I just want to get on with my day.

So the “valuable ” lesson here (yes today I’m all about quotations)  would have to be that….what.  We are all a little cuckoo, but bottom line good people.  Don’t get worried about speaking your mind.  Friends are just travelers on the journey of life too and they are going through what they are going through regardless of what anyone says to them.  We all have our own personal inner battles to fight.  And I don’t want to sound like I’m just spewing out euphemisms, but perhaps we all worry a little and try to be loved.


AAHH the Holidays

by on Tuesday, December 13th, 2011

Busy crazy busy.  Everyone is too.  Shopping, cleaning, cooking, baking, wrapping, and then the parties and fun get togethers.

You can be jealous, I have finished my shopping.  Yes!!  But I have everything piled in my bedroom now and have to wrap it all.  I cleaned carpets yesterday because I’m hosting a Cookie Exchange this weekend for all my students’ families.  And I have the cookie dough all made too, just have to bake them now.  Still have to shop for snacks for the Exchange and cider.

Getting ready for the Holidays is a lot like getting ready to take your family on a vacation to another planet.  There are things you need that you would never use anywhere or anyother time, so you have to fight through crowds of shoppers who are also traveling.   You’ll have to visit all your friends since you may never see them again, at least not for a very long time since the planet is so far away.  Pack all the necessary and strange items for traveling in special containers so that they won’t be damaged in outer space.  Then, plan and eat a big meal before you go into hyper sleep in the space ship.  Don’t forget shopping for that too.  And make sure your family is together, and safe, tell them they are loved and you’ll be back soon.  When you finally get it all together, thank the Goddess that we can finally relax and sleep it off, for a week if you are lucky.  Then, celebrate!  Because your home, undamaged, and loved, and you lived through it all and things can go back to normal again.  Outer space is interesting and you can look forward to traveling again next year.

What strange rituals we have.

It’s my last Christmas with Dylan at home, of course he’ll come home for the holidays next year, and the years to come.  But I feel like it is the end of many of our children’s holiday rituals.  We finally got our tree up and Dylan said, “We can’t decorate it till Erika comes over”.   So we had to schedule that around her work and studying for finals.  I feel like it will be just Mike and I doing it in the future, getting the house ready for them to come home.  And even though Erika lives in town, she always spends the Christmas days sleeping over.  Our Christmas morning ritual will have to never change!  When we wake up we push Mike out of bed too then all get our coffee and our stockings to begin opening.  Well, they used to bring their stockings into our bed and we all sat there to open them but now there’s not enough room!

What will our future rituals look like?  I hope for many things to remain the same of course, but allow them to make their own too.  When they have families of their own they will want to continue the traditions.  That’s when those things will be more special to them.   Not for a while though yet…college first.  We have just opened a different chapter, that’s all.  Travel to a new planet.


by on Tuesday, November 22nd, 2011

Looking forward to a relaxing Thanksgiving this year.  I haven’t been hosting for a couple years since my sister-in-law’s mother started joining us.  She is in a wheel chair and our house is less than wheel chair friendly.

A couple years ago I began writing down things I am thankful for at the end of the year.  It helps remind me when I look back, that I do have something good going on.  Especially at times when I feel frantic and upset about life.

So, here is my list for 2011:

1.  I am thankful for my husband Michael who does so much for us and who is always there for me.

2. I am thankful for making it “through” tough times, I am just now beginning to see the end of that tunnel.

3.  I am thankful for what lessons I learned in the process.

4.  I am thankful for my 2 beautiful children who are now (almost) 2 beautiful adults with good values and good heads on their shoulders.  They are making good choices and making me proud.

5.  I am thankful for the rich wonderful life I have.


Proud of You Dude!

by on Wednesday, October 12th, 2011

Dylan’s progress reports are in for the first half of the quarter.  Last year he took a very non-challant approach to his grades, much to my dismay.  He is a very smart kid!  So needless to say, I was a little afraid to look at his grades.  I’m so glad I did though because now I can be proud of him again!  He has mostly A’s and a couple B’s, but those are in  functional statistics and Bio Technology.  Hooray Dylan!

My expectations are too high for him…or maybe not.  His sister is a type A personality who does very well at whatever she tries.  In highschool she was a straight A student with a 4.0 GPA.  I don’t expect that from D, but I do expect him to get at least a 3.5.  He is smart enough for that! But he is the one who even when he was 2 I knew that he would be the one pushing my buttons and challenging me.  He would also be my Karma coming back at me from my highschool days.  I knew this when he was still small.  The challenges  with him did exceed my expectations though.

Let me explain.  Dylan used to play hockey.  He was getting very good at it too!  In high school, freshman year, he didn’t make the team so he played for fun in a league at midget level.  In our state hockey is very popular and a midget level  rec league usually is all the high school kids who didn’t make the team or didn’t want to.  Half of them have beards and look like they weigh about 200 pounds.  It was the end of the season, March, and they were playing a tournament up north.  I was home with Erika and Mike had gone with Dylan for the weekend.  After the saturday night game, I got the call from Mike.  Dylan had been taken from the game in an ambulance to the local hospital.  It was a head injury, he was conscious, but he wasn’t feeling too good.  His coach made the call after Dylan came off the ice and collapsed.

Dylan had been checked hard from behind and headed into the boards by a big kid who took 4 hard strides and railed him.  There was no call on the play, but the kids on the team said Dylan was saying some really funny things after that.  There was a break in the game and they went into the locker room.  So 15 minutes later when he was back out on the ice, no one thought anything about it, he was skating pretty well!  Then he went down again.  This time his feet went out from under him and he landed on his back and head.  He got up, he wasn’t knocked unconscious, and went to the bench.  Thank God his coach was an eye doctor, he took one look at Dylan and called 911.

Funny coincidence. Dylan’s concussion occured on the same day that Liam Neeson’s wife died of an unattended head injury on the ski slopes.

Concussion.  Usually you think concussion, no big deal, you’ll feel better in a couple days.  So the next 2-3 weeks were a learning experience for all of us…including his doctor I think.  He was so dizzy he couldn’t walk, couldn’t focus enough to read and he didn’t sleep.  School was out of the question.  Good thing Spring break was the following week, we thought it would give him time to recover. At the end of 2 weeks, Dylan still wasn’t sleeping.  Riding in the car and walking short distances made him woozy.  He had taken 2 weeks off of TV, movies, computer, reading, drums, games and even visiting with friends.  What was a 15 year old to do!  He could listen to music, and I did let him text his friends.  It began to look like he was probably not going to heal very quickly and we made arrangements with the school for him to be gone for an extended period of time.

Without writing a book here, which I could easily do, it took him a year to feel normal again.  He had to drop all classes till the end of the year except one, social studies, which he was able to attend  beginning in May(just one class a day was all he could handle of normal life) .  He had to make up a couple core classes over the summer so he could move on to 10th grade with his classmates.  The one thing his brain was having the hardest time with was math.  Processing math problems was giving him major headaches.  We felt like that was probably the area hardest hit by the concussion and he ended up having to take Geometry again.  No big deal there.

My expectations for the kid were dramatically lowered, so I feel like I can be extra super proud of him when he does succeed.  He is a really smart kid, who had to overcome a lot!  The ordeal changed him a lot too.  I think he was going to go to school for music at one point, (oh god not another musician in the family!) but switch his focus to art.  The one thing he was able to do while he was recovering was draw.  So he became really good at at because it occupied lots of his time.

That’s why he will be applying to college for art.  I am still learning about ways the concussion affected him!  And I am so super proud of him for all he has over come.  And, D, way to go on your grades this quarter!

This is a 4' by 4' hardboard painting by Dyl 2011