I taught art for 25 years in public schools in South Dakota, Illinois, and mostly at the 8^th grade level in Wisconsin, when kids are the craziest.  Though adolescents can be trying, I was deeply satisfied by the caliber of their artwork.  I feel I was a very good instructor, but let’s face it, I’ve been out to lunch all my life…

 One time during a 4^th hour class, a kid took me aside and respectfully suggested my sweater might be on backwards.  Rather indignantly, I asked why he figured that.  He responded that “most people would wear the ‘vee’ in the front.”…

 I taught two courses, Drawing and Sculpture, sometimes seeing the same kid twice a day.  One time at parent-teacher conferences, a woman was accompanied by her identical twin daughters.  Mouth gaping, I said, “You mean there are two of them?”   To reiterate, I was a very good instructor…

At the turn of the century, I came out of denial and shared a self-revelation with my wife.  She looked squarely at me and said, “You are way too messy to be gay.”  But several years later, my son attested to a minor conversion when he said, “Dad, the only way you’ve changed since you came out is now you say ‘Could you use a coaster?’”…  Eight years later I live at the same place and have yet to win the Good Housekeeping Award.  I tell friends as they leave to wipe their feet.  Don’t mention this to Social Services…

 I live with three cats who don’t date outside their species in a big, ole’ house, 5 blocks from the St. Croix River in a historic neighborhood.  My yard is surrounded by a fence of wooden crutches painted white with red stripes.  The yard is filled with totem-like sculptures made of found objects, like bones and rusty tools.  Several years ago the Minneapolis Star Tribune wrote about me - “The Artist With a Fetish.”  My drawings and sculptures have been featured in one-man shows, mostly at university galleries, in twelve states.  Described as “post-industrial totems,” my art reflects my interest in nontraditional healing arts, like Qigong and shamanism. 

 Over the years I have maintained one high school friendship with Marilyn Wolff.  “Always the bridesmaid,” I stood up for her when she married in 2005, my first time in a Yamaka.

 Several times each year I travel back to see my mom and family.  The landscape west of the river owns my heart.  Truly, it brings tears to my eyes.  The song of a Western Meadowlark is so deep-rooted, stirring.  Occasionally in Wisconsin, when I hear an Eastern Meadowlark it’s as if it’s forgotten the words to a song.

Bebe remembered a poem that Glenn Riddle wrote for her in high school.  She says her memory fails her trying to think back that far but suddenly this came to her.....

Daises are yeller
Mums are whitened
When you beller
I am frightened!