Of course I identify with my creative product. It came out of me. It is my expression. Still, it might be more accurate to say that my creative product identifies me… the way fingerprints can identify a person that was in a particular place or touched a particular object. My paintings are marks I leave behind me as I pass through the world. My father found a drawing of mine from the 1970’s and used it as his Christmas greeting this past December. I drew that in Africa. A few years ago, a friend sent me a picture I drew for her in the 1980’s.

So you see? It’s true.

They both held onto the type of drawings that I never kept for myself. And I drew all the time, so I don’t know how many still exist.

That is the impact I hope to have. That people will value what I’ve done enough to not throw it away. That there will be evidence… a paper trail… proof that I was here. That I felt something, and said something about it in my own way, wherever I was on life’s Highway. The notebook paper I drew on was not valuable. The ink was not anything special. The story and the connection made it worth something. Made it worth keeping.

The people who have most influenced me are my parents. They supported me and loved me. I took them for granted, the way teens do, I suppose. They made me feel secure, and encouraged my interests even when they didn’t understand them. I was fortunate to get the parents I got. I see now that many are not so blessed. I want to pay it forward.

The people most influenced by me have got to be my children. I don’t want to let them down.

I’m sandwiched between two extraordinary generations, marveling to find myself here.