My Dad. Pictured here in the local Coventry (England) newspaper. Something about seeing pictures of my parents before I was born triggers either totally witchy or totally devastating poems, depending on the day.
Reminds me of one of my favorite Joyce Carol Oates poems. Wish I could remember the title cuz I’d hyper-link it for ya.
And my artistic path may have taken a completely different turn had I never been exposed to the ride “It’s a Small World” at Disney World. Sounds gay, but true. It was the first time I remember feeling completely SURROUNDED by music.