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For the second year in a row, I spent the big dinner with one of my sister’s in-laws. Mom still made a few things, but at least she didn’t have to cook or host the whole thing. As a matter of fact, Mom stayed home with Dad and we brought them back plates. Talk about service!
Before the Big Meal
Once again, I made Naturally-Dyed Red Velvet cupcakes. So, the first question is always what “natural dye” was used. Answer: A beet. A very large beet. Then, I explained that in order to retain its beautiful color, the beet must be raw going into the blender and the batter has to be acidic.
Long-Time Coming
In true Teresa fashion, I forgot the cream cheese to make the frosting. I pivoted and made a buttercream frosting instead. I’d made that cream cheese frosting twice before and both times it came out runny. Mom said that I’d used too much butter. I’d used the amount of butter the recipe had called for both times; so it must be my technique.
Among the Oenophiles
A few days later, a long awaited book finally materialized. Many things went sideways during the pandemic, including this book. The idea was to have poets to write about wine and then upon its release, we’d meet and different wineries to read and sip.
I’m enjoying the contributions, but not while sipping wine. Since writing my wine poem, “Dear Malbec,” I no longer have a daily glass of wine. Only on the weekends. Another pivot I’ve had to make, but this time, it’s not due to a missing ingredient, but rather me getting older and having the wisdom to know I have to make changes to continue enjoying life.
Once again, one of my sisters piggybacked off my idea to gift a family experience for Christmas. Last year, we gifted the family indoor skydiving, which went swimmingly well. This year, the sister collaboration involves an actual production of our very own Christmas show.
Producing a live show is in my wheel house since I produced a theme-inspired spoken word and storytelling show for eight years in Austin, The Austin Writers Roulette. One of the many lessons I learned from that creative experience is that as much as I love to organize, building in simplicity is key. What’s the least that needs to be done to execute the event?
Since my sister is an art teacher, she’s responsible for more than paying half this time around. Granted, one of the main jobs of a producer is to secure funding, but I’ve tasked her with gathering props for the show as well. She has a wealth of material at her house. After seeing what usable things we already have, we’ll buy the rest.
Even with a prop list, I’m mindful of using the fewest props and least costuming accessories to accentuate each of the five songs that I’ve selected. The introductions to each songs have been edited for the fewest words with the largest impact. Actually, that’s how I usually write, but for a live production where I have a set amount of time, I plan less to allow for fewer things to go off the rails.
In the meantime, I’m doing a little at a time, including reading up on the digital camera that I’m going to use to record the experience. All along, I trust that the production will come together.
Starting last year, I declared that I was no longer buying materialistic Christmas presents. All my gifts seemed like sacrifices to all the other junk that my family already had. Even the handmade things weren’t appreciated for the effort that I put in and STILL added to the cathedral of junk.
I brainstormed affordable family activity experiences. Part of the challenge was a 62-year age range. I hit the nail on the head last year with indoor skydiving. The octogenarians, my parents, didn’t fly, but they still enjoyed watching us and other participants fly.
The difference a year makes: dad has more mobility issues. So on top of everything else, I had the added challenge of finding an interesting family experience at an accessible venue, which in this day and age, is still a formidable challenge that requires much planning ahead.
After surveying family members about group activities, I concluded that I’d have to make the Christmas magic. I plan to produce a live Christmas show for my family at the dance studio where I take classes. In order to capture the memory, I will record the event.
Although I don’t have big ideas about what the recording will look like, especially since I’m responsible for the post production. I’ve been writing the Christmas show, including my introductions for each song.
My instructors will be the performers. Not only are they the most professional that I can afford, but I know they can make up a routine on the fly. At least I’m hoping that’s the case because I’m not too sure about whether we will have rehearsals or even a run through. I’m also hoping that since they know me that at least three instructors will want to participate in such a production on the eve of Christmas Eve.
A handful of instructors, including the studio owner, have heard me mention several times that I’m an emerging filmmaker. I want to make a short film about pole dancing. Who knew that the first one, outside of a handful of chair dancing videos, would be a Christmas show?
Since this will be a gift for my family, I thought of some “candy cane” awards that I can present to each family member. The awards will reflect some sentimental or funny moment(s) that occurred around Christmas time. After announcing the winner of the award, I have chosen a song that matches.
Choosing songs was less challenging than the candy cane awards themselves, thanks to the overabundance and commercialization of Christmas songs. All the songs are non-religious and most reference Santa.
Since I have the award verbiage written and songs chosen, I now have to secure props that instructor dancers may not have. Since this is my production, I don’t expect them to buy anything that they don’t already have. At the same time, since this is a Christmas-themed production, the chances are good that they already own props, especially attire.
I’ve already texted the song list to the instructor who, for all intents and purposes, acts like a manager and the owner. Those are the two who I’m expecting to perform, but I’d love for at least two more.
In the meantime, I’ve received the two boxes of equipment that I will use for the event. Not a moment too soon. Unfortunately, package piracy is on the rise, given inflation and the upcoming holiday season. Too bad more people aren’t embracing non-materialistic gifts although that wouldn’t allay all stealing. Just the Christmas-motivated theft.
Always a pleasure to spend creative time in fresh air. This invitation came via one of the board members from the film festival. Since my sister is my all-around partner in crime, of course, she came with me.
The Creative Invitation
Although the weather wasn’t cold, I knew that my hands wouldn’t be submerged in water. My sister, however, squealed like a little kid at the opportunity to make her own organic paper that would eventually sprout flowers. At one point, I asked her to calm down because she was acting like someone who didn’t get out of the house much.
Paper Pulp
The organizer showed us the pulp, which I can only remember contained leaves, water, and other organic “stuff.”
Artist Organizer and My Sister
I’d seen recycled paper fodder before, but this was the first time I’d seen recycled paper made into a vehicle for a seed delivery system.
Artist Power Tools
Although my sister was the only paper-making participant during that time slot, she got the full explanation of the process due to her sheer enthusiasm and the fact that she was an art teacher. Like any good teacher, my sister’s mind went into overdrive, already seeing how she could use the experience in her classroom.
Okra Slime
One step, pouring okra slime into the mix, provided me with the only good use for that substance. Unlike the other ingredients, which were added together in the bucket and emulsified with a power tool. Instead, that slime was poured directly into the bin.
Traditional Artist Tools
My sister immersed her hands into that mixture to combine all the ingredients thoroughly, working out all the lumps.
Massaging Paper Pulp
Then, she used a screen to capture a sample of the mixture.
Introducing the Screen
Once she coated the screen with an even layer, she removed it from the water and set it on top of the bin.
Draining Excess Water
Raising the screen frame, she examined the wet paper mixture to make sure that it was all together in one piece.
Preparing Extraction
Gently, she placed the wet paper onto the muslin cloth.
Pressing into Cloth
After pressing the back of the screen to the fabric, she transferred the wet paper to the cloth.
Smoothing It Out
At that point, the wet paper transformed into portable composting soil.
Adding Seeds
Next, she spread seeds around.
Pressing into Place
With the seeds pressed into the paper soil, the product needed to dry .
Preparing to Hang
She gently peeled the muslin off the table to hang the cloth up to dry.
Hanging out to Dry
She chose one of the sunniest spots to hang the seeded soil.
Soaking up Sun
Although the drying process takes several days, the paper soil dried enough in a few hours to be peeled away from the cloth.
Resting on the Floor
The organizer showed us what my sister’s soil paper would eventually turn into:
My second Halloween celebration was for the kids. Two local churches joined forces for a Trunk or Treat event on Sunday evening. As usual, my sister set up a face painting table, which is usually a very popular activity, but I helped direct interest her way with my costume like a living, breathing billboard of her handiwork.
Pumpkin Spice
Even from across the parking lot, everyone knew who I was dressed as. One mother told me once I reached the church grounds that her kids were so happy that Ahsoka was there. Apparently no one cared that I couldn’t keep that headpiece on straight. That was my main battle as this Star Wars character. At some point, I’ll have to finish watching the series. I only stopped because I was advised to watch “Clone Wars” first, so I could better understand what was happening in the latest series.
Halloween Duo
Last year, I’d set up the trunk of my car and ran a game, but this time around, my sister and I had joined forces at the same table. Although I ran my game and passed out candy, my main job was to keep the kids in an orderly line and get them to think about what they wanted painted on their face or arm.
Ghostly Game
We’d even set out three chairs for the kids to sit in as they waited. To a certain degree, that scheme kept things orderly, but as the crowd swelled, the line branched between a standing line and a sitting line. Fortunately, no fights broke out.
By the time my sister painted the last kid’s face, I had to shine a light just so she could see. After packing up our things, we walked back to her car to load up the supplies. A parent who was driving by, slowed down, rolled down her window and screamed, “Love your costume!”
Totally worth the effort. So happy that we could add to the festivities on such a beautiful evening for an outdoor event.
My sister believes that getting a lot of fresh air makes you sleepy. This event definitely proved that theory. Although I didn’t do any strenuous activity during this event, I was prematurely tired and slept well. One holiday, creatively spent. Six more in the next four months to go!
Last year, I had a very low key Halloween since I didn’t dress up although I participated in a Halloween event for the children at my parents’ church. My mind was still adjusting to relocating back home. So, my energy was mostly for survival rather than creativity. Halloween had snuck up on me and passed me by.
Chair Dance Class
Not this time. I ordered my costume before October. Although I bought an adult women’s large, the head piece could have only fit a child’s head. I then learned that most tailors in town were either fully booked until the end of October or they didn’t make costume alterations. Fortunately my sister knew a woman whose side hustle was costume-making.
Witchy Xmas Tree
She and her husband had an incredible number of action figures around their living room and dining room along with three adorable dogs. I knew I’d found my seamstress. She flawlessly enlarged the headpiece after a week.
Festive Ahsoka Pose
Another unexpected challenge was getting one of my costume accessories: eyelashes. First of all, I don’t enjoy shopping, which is why when I look at the items I need to pick up for the week, I get them all, preferably, at one place. If not one place, then I plan to visit places that are close together to save both time and money. So, for this shopping excursion, Walmart.
3 Haunted Chair Dancers
Normally, that would have been OK, but not this time. Apparently, if a customer needs an item that is locked behind glass, not only does the customer need to hunt down an employee, but the employee has to escort the customer around the store until in the check out line. I went pie-eyed when the employee told me that. For $10 worth of lashes and glue, I got my very own Walmart escort to deter theft. I told him that he was fortunate that I only needed one other item before checking out. Just to compare, I ended up going to three other stores a few days later and they were all swinging in eyelashes for just anyone to take!
Head Skeleton in Charge
My costume came together the day of my event: a ladies only Halloween dance showcase. All the performers were teachers and students. Although I’d been invited to perform, I happily told everyone that I was coming to pose.
Feeling Halloweeny
My sister, who’s an art teacher, painted my face, arms, shoulders and back. Thank goodness because I wouldn’t have even attempted this costume without her assistance. I could have done a decent job with the design on my face, but not the rest. Talk about costuming commitment! By contrast, she dressed up as “Pumpkin Spice.”
Pumpkin Spice
The focus to detail paid off in another way as well: we arrived 30 minutes after the doors opened. As soon as we walked in, the show began. We still looked for available seats. Typical Black people. Arrive 30 minutes late, still want a good seat. My sister opted to sit on the floor within the ring of seated audience members. I remained standing. I didn’t get all costumed just to sit on the floor. She got the bird eye’s view to all the twerking on the floor. In the middle of the event, we scored two chairs.
Hey Boo!
All the performances were phenomenal. My very first level one teacher, who’d moved away, performed. The student performances blew me away, especially my friend who was on the lyra (hoop). Her performance even amazed the lyra teacher.
Ahsoka and Instructor
No adult Halloween party would be complete with libations. The back room had a delicious selection of Jello shots, punch, alcohol, desserts, and savory dishes. I practically inhaled the meatballs in barbecue sauce.
Ahsoka and Students
Once the show was over, I introduced my sister to everyone. As we mingled, there seemed to be some conspiracy about me performing in a Christmas-themed event. That remains to be determined.
Costume Party Time
I have no interest in performing except in a storytelling fashion. For much longer than a fleeting moment, I pondered how I could write a short spoken word piece, which I could dramatize. I’m not sure if it’ll be Christmas themed, but that’s a far more interesting performance idea for me.
After the Performances
Then again, instead of writing a brand new piece, I could always polish off one of my past works and revamp it as a performance piece. Who knows, life is full of possibilities.
One of the first things I researched when I relocated to Fayetteville from Austin was finding a local film school, filmmaking group or something, anything to continue my path as an emerging filmmaker. Apparently, a similar motivation inspired the founders of this fabulous film festival eight years ago.
They had plotted all the film festivals around NC on a map and saw a ring around the city with the nearest events still about an hour away. Unlike me, they did something about it besides reading filmmaking books and writing scripts.
Too Many Wonderful Choices
I’d left my filmmaking network in Austin. Even the nearest Women in Film chapter in NC seemed to no longer meet. So, I focused my creative energy on digital illustrating and podcasting, interviewing my extended family for episodes of “Strange Family Folklore” (SFF).
Then, I received a miraculous email update about the movie I’d interned on the year before, “Shame Full.” Our short film had been selected for this local film festival. I’d received other updates about the movie, but this one hit very close to home. I felt energized at the prospect of seeing the film on the big screen and talking with the co-directors/co-producers IRL.
Proof
Imagine my disappointment, followed by my sheer surprise that the co-directors/co-producers couldn’t make it themselves, but offered me the honor of representing the film instead. As I checked out the festival schedule, I discovered that on Saturday night, when our film would show, I had a previous, equally exciting event. Unbelievable. Nothing interesting hardly ever happens in Fayetteville. Thanks to the flexibility of the organizers, they accommodated my schedule and included our film in the noon block.
I took Friday off, so I could still swim a mile like I normally do on Fridays after work and run my Saturday morning errands. For me, that was clearing my schedule. Instead of swimming laps, I was on time for a water aerobics class that was about as strenuous as a mile-long swim, especially since the instructor noticed that I’d grabbed a small pool noodle instead of a large one. She upgraded my noodle. Granted, I was at least ten years younger than the rest of the other women and she knew I needed more of a challenge.
Proof w/ Balloons
Toward the end of the class, a woman shared that a film festival was beginning later that night. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “My film is in that festival!” Everyone’s electrified smile encouraged me to explain that “Shame Full” was about how a mother had internalized body shaming all her life, but realized she needed to make a change when she discovered her daughter internalizing the same trauma.
The Friday night opening film, “Black Barbie,” premiered at The Cameo theatre. Initially, I thought that extraordinary documentary had capitalized on the success of the “Barbie” movie; however, toward the end of the film, the audience learned that the filmmaker took 12 years to capture the story of Mattel’s first Black Barbie. Part of that fascinating journey was told by the filmmaker’s aunt, who’d worked for Mattel for decades. Even though the filmmaker was not available for Q & A, I was excited to hear that the film had been picked up by Netflix.
My Block
Saturday morning, I watched a feature film, “Witnessed,” in The Cameo theatre. One humorous detail that I detected throughout this otherwise male-driven thriller was that two out of three women who had a speaking part had put money in their bra as part of their hustle. Again, the filmmaker wasn’t available for Q & A, but I would have definitely asked them about that detail.
The Q & A Interview
Afterwards, I trekked up two very long, steep flights of stairs to The Loge theatre, where our film was shown. Had I originally thought that I’d miss exercising on Saturday due to attending a daylong festival, I would have been mistaken! The comfortableness of the plush seats in that small theatre was a godsend. The best reward was seeing “Shame Full” on a big screen for the first time, especially immersed with other moving shorts in that block.
Prior to my viewing block, I reminded myself to be gracious to the other filmmakers during the 15-minute Q & A since I tend to get “diarrhea of the mouth.” Turns out, I was the only filmmaker present for that block. No one even had to ask me a question to get the session going. I was so excited to be there. I explained that my Marvel hero sounding film credit, “Sound Shadow,” meant that I had been an intern with the sound department. I then explained my interest with that department was due to being a podcaster, but honestly, I was happy to get in where I fit in.
Post Interview Pose
I shared with the audience that the one of the filmmakers and I were on the inaugural board for the Austin Chapter of Women in Film and TV. Through that connection, I’d first read and provided feedback for the script and liked the story because it dealt with generational trauma. I was also impressed with how quickly the funding, cast and crew came together rather than the idea languishing for months. I told everyone that we filmed with COVID precautions in place. Besides that level of comfort, I felt that the set had been a safe place since 60% of the crew were women and a higher percentage were people of color.
The interviewer managed to get in a few questions of her own. When asked what had been my favorite scene, I said that every time I see the bathroom scene, I fondly recall how the cinematographer had stuffed himself under the bathroom sink to get the shot. When asked about something strange happening on set, I shared how I’d walked up and found a lost earring in the grass by using logic since everyone else had been looking in the wrong spot. I also shared how I’d brought my music stand for the tablet, so the directors could conveniently see what the cinematographer was seeing. The interviewer also surprised me with her comment that the pattern of my dress reminded her of film. Now, I will always associate that dress with film.
With the Festival Founders
I watched as many other short films as I could before jetting home to eat, then making a dramatic dress change. Fortunately, my sister is an art teacher, which was the only way I transformed into Ahsoka within 30 minutes. My dance studio had its Halloween-themed teacher-student presentation. That spectacular event, however, will be next week’s blog post.
Saturday Night Dance Event
On Sunday midmorning, I attended the awards BBQ lunch. Many of the award winners had already left town, which meant that there was plenty of leftover wine. With the help of one of the festival board members, we gathered an unopened bottle of Merlot with a twist-off cap and some plastic cups.
Award-Winning Filmmakers
I had no trouble finding other festival goers to share wine with. We spent a lovely afternoon sipping wine in The Loge theatre, watching the festival award-winning films.
Winners w/ Founders
I left the theatre inspired. Two cousins, both of whom I’d interviewed for SFF, had each given me a DVD with interviews about our extended family. Up until now, I had not viewed them because I had no way to view them, much less edit them. I ordered a piece of equipment to rip those DVDs. My goal is to enter the finished documentary into this film festival.
On sunny Sunday mornings, I trek to my former junior high school from home. As much as I hated that walk when I was younger, I now love it since I’m not obligated to do it.
Early Morning Duck Crossing
For this outing, a flock of ducks distracted me more than the schoolyard litter. They stopped me in my tracks. Not that they were the least bit aggressive. Quite the opposite.
Spreading Out
I sensed that they saw me since their pattern changed. Stopping at a respectable distance, I allowed the ducks to cross with minimum perturbation by my presence.
Promenade
Usually, I consider my Sunday strolls to be faster than leisurely, but definitely not a power walk. I’m not so much trying to elevate my heart rate as to keep it beating healthily. For once, I wasn’t rushing to be somewhere else. After all, the only real scheduled thing I had to do was make breakfast for Dad and me.
Field Buffet
For Dad, every day is essentially the same. He doesn’t experience the weekend joy of sleeping in. When he awakes, he wants his breakfast. Not that I mind. I’m a breakfast eater, myself.
Stragglers
The challenge is, balancing my weekend schedule while not disrupting his schedule too much. If anything goes astray, Mom has to pick up the slack. That’s something I definitely don’t want to do, especially since she’s already the primary caregiver. She doesn’t often have reliable attendants and no help on Sundays, which she’s trying to change.
When I was younger, I wanted to buy my parents a house. That’s not happened, yet I’d love to buy my own house, all on one level for them to move in with me. Ever the optimist, thinking that my art will cash out. Lord knows it won’t be the 9 to 5.
My sister and I made a day trip out of town to rendezvous with one of our first cousins. Actually, Mom had sent us on a mission to get discounted toiletries although the former math teacher in me questioned whether the savings held up, considering we traveled nearly four hours roundtrip. The gas expenditure alone (because Mom DEFINITELY wouldn’t have paid us for our time!) may have possibly eaten into that savings.
Originally, Mom suggested that we meet at a gas station, followed by her second suggestion: in the parking lot of a popular dinner theater. After hearing all this, I thought, “What’s with all this ‘parking lot’ shit?”
It’s not as if we were making a drug deal or selling otherwise things acquired by ill-gotten means. My cousin had bought things on sale to resale to Mom at cost.
We hadn’t seen our cousin since the family reunion at the end of June. As enjoyable as that event was, we wanted a mini reunion while enjoying an early seafood dinner.
I was starving by the time we arrived since I’d skipped lunch just to ensure I’d have an appetite. I love supporting local mom and pop restaurants. Usually the local flavor and charming staff make such places. As soon as we walked in, we were hit with both. From the prominent sign displaying the mixed seafood and Greek specials to our server whose tip-enhancing generosity and sassy sense of humor entertained us throughout our visit.
When we told her that we wanted a piece of key lime pie to share, she asked, “How’s that going to be shared four ways?” Took my cousin, sister and me a few moments to realize that she was including herself in that count.
When my cousin said she didn’t like her side of lima beans and wanted to replace them with hushpuppies, the server not only brought my cousin a generous helping, but at the end of our meal, the server provided a to-go box full of them to gift my cousin.
At one point, I asked the server what her name was. Her response: “What, you lost yours?”
Nearly everything about the food was delicious with the notable exceptions of stuff crabs with too much bread and flounder that lacked seasoning. The hushpuppies alone could have been a meal, if you’re inclined to eat just one thing.
When checking out, we queued up at the register to pay for our dinner individually. The owner himself rang us up. With me, he gave me a miniature Hershey’s milk chocolate bar, saying that he was giving it to me because I was 19. He attempted to gift my cousin a Mr. Goodbar, but she protested, handing it to my sister, saying that she wanted a milk chocolate as well. Of course, my sister didn’t care what she got because chocolate is its own reward.
We hugged in the parking lot and headed back. That was the perfect way to spend a beautiful Saturday, running an errand for Mom.
Proving both sayings that “the best-laid plans go awry” and “when life give you lemons, make lemonade,” my family and I went to a museum in Maryland on a Sunday to see our cousin Percy Martin’s exhibit only to discover that the building was closed. One of my sisters persuaded a maintenance man to unlock the art building’s side door, yet the gallery itself was also closed. Prominently displayed on the gallery window were the hours: Mon-Fri from 11 AM-4PM.
Unexpected Historical Facet
We saw other paintings and a set of cardboard pieces arranged in 3D shapes, which were obviously class projects. The exhibit that resonated with me was the brief history lesson about systemic racism in the surrounding area. After seeing on the news how Floridian institutions have been under attack for such content, it was refreshing to witness.
A Deeper Dive
We couldn’t find anyone else in the building to open the gallery. One of my sisters questioned two different people in the parking lot as we were about to leave. Both said they couldn’t open the gallery, so she texted Percy’s daughter to see if we could visit the artist himself. In the meantime, she called another cousin who had attended the artist talk the month before.
Lunch Break
While sitting in the car, talking to our cousin in attempt to come up with Plan B, my sister spotted a third person in the parking lot. She handed off her phone to our sister to approach that person. Next thing we knew, they started walking out of the parking lot in the opposite direction of the museum. By the time I realized that none of us had any means to communicate with her, she and the dude she’d approached were out of sight. All I could think of was, “What a perfect ‘Taken’ situation and none of us have a special set of skills.” I just prayed that that unsuspecting dude was a nice guy with no general woman-abduction scenarios in his back pocket.
Before We Go
After an uncomfortable amount of time, she returned, telling us that the guy had escorted her to the student union in hopes that someone there would have keys to the museum or the student union gallery. They’d struck out on both pursuits. I told her next time to use someone else’s phone to call her phone and check in with us. She hadn’t thought of that, but at least she was fine.
Humble Beginnings of an Artist
Our Plan B: go over to another cousin’s house who lived near Percy. We’d finally heard back from Percy’s daughter who invited us to come over for a visit after two. That was a few hours away, so we had an enjoyable time at our cousin’s house, including eating pizza since we were out later than anticipated. Originally, we wanted to hit the road back to NC by then, but we figured talking to the artist himself would make the whole trip worth while.
Prolific Artist
We truly got more than we bargained for. My cousin and her husband drove separately to Percy’s house since they showed us how to get there and would drive back home. Instead they stayed the entire time, which turned out to be over an hour, thanks to me.
Passing on the Knowlege
As soon as we arrived at Percy’s house, I introduced myself to him and asked if I could interview him for my podcast. He was ready to go. As a matter of fact, he invited me into his studio where we had a quieter environment to conduct the recording. He started, unprompted, telling me his story.
Here was an artist who had been interviewed so many times, he already knew several places to begin, leaving me to catch up. When he took a breath, I informed him that I was recording, which I don’t know if he cared or not, but it still seemed like the ethical thing to do.
From there, I was amazed at the life he led during his childhood when he discovered at age 8 that he wanted to be an artist and the famous people who he crossed paths with by virtue of living in D.C. As enthralled as I was by his back to back stories that flowed from one to the next, I was mindful of the time.
My original plan was to keep the interview at a tight 30 minutes, but he was still going strong with his storytelling. Once we blew through the 30-minute mark, I watched him to see if I detected a look of fatigue cross his face as did when I’d interviewed one of my uncles who was in his 90s. No such look appeared since I believe he’d had a nap prior to our visit. Not only that, but he admitted once the interview concluded that no one had been by to see him in a while. Such a heartbreaking admission to hear from a vibrant storyteller.
Another cousin, who had attended his artist talk a month earlier, shared her photographic documentation of the event:
