imperfectly beautiful

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I believe in second chances far more than abandonment.

Fewer days thrill me more than those where I can take something that’s been discarded, breathe new life in it, and have it resuscitate the same in me. I’m constantly surrounded by hand me downs, throwaways, secondhand left behinds, and rescues… each by choice. With their used to be past, their visibly less than perfect flaws, and their distinctive individualities, each mirror my own life perfectly.

Popularity is generally temporary fluff. The combination of uniqueness, imperfection, and originality however, will always display a sincere timeless genuine beauty.

I believe in believing.

blue collared hero

Father's Day Hero

My father meant the world to me. As years continue to pass, I've come to understand that more and more. Dad was a regular blue-collar kinda guy. He worked hard with his hands, and loved his family. He was also known to have a few days when he was the farthest thing from being an angel. Still though, he was my hero and my teacher of lessons, honesty, and hard work. He made sure I understood the importance of always being the man I saw in the mirror, not someone fake.

If there was ever a man of his word, it was my father. And when he gave it to you, you could count on that word and him. Period. He taught me that whenever I had one of those days when I did something wrong, it was my responsibility to own it, all of it, and to do whatever it took to make everything right again… if not, better. Apologies, love, forgiveness, and sincerity are life essentials. He taught me the value of each one.

The boys of 1966.

It's been 20 years since I spent Father's Day with Dad. I miss those Sunday afternoons that we'd regularly spend together just as much as I miss his smile. I still believe in heroes, especially mine.

Thanks Pop. Happy Father's Day.

life path and a promise

life path

I’ve rarely given much thought about the motivation driving me to place one foot in front of the other. I take it for granted as something I’m simply expected to do. Through my years of parenting, I did my best to be the father that I wanted to be, a good one. Looking back now, as I’m able to spend time with our three grown children, it’s apparent that we all survived our younger years quite well. Myself included. In addition to my role as a stay at home father during those influential years, I also balanced my adult life as a fulltime studio artist. My career was far from a nine to five routine, and I loved every moment of it. Finding the stability I needed to balance my role as a fulltime Dad with a business centering on creative self-expression, marketing, promotion, and forward thinking, taught me quite a bit about myself, most of which centered on commitment, ambition, and fervor. A number of years later as our children prepared for their own young adult lives and I approached fifty years of age, the idea of my returning to college became incredibly important to me. I was driven. Two years later at the age of 51, I received my Master’s Degree with honors from the VCU School of the Arts in December of 2010. Though I’ve never labeled it as such, it’s clear that my life’s path has been directed through personal innovation.

My blue-collar upbringing was honest, hardworking, and continues to be an inspiration in my day-to-day passion for life. I owe a great deal of gratitude to my father for many of those life lessons. He was far more scholarly than his partial high school education, and he taught me skills about treating people honestly and the importance of working hard towards creating something better, not for yourself, but mainly for others. My father’s unexpected death in 1993 was a giant hurdle, but I recovered. The day before he passed, the two of us spent several hours together over a long father and son conversation. It was simple, honest, and beyond life touching. His blue-collar way of life didn’t always understand my fine art world. He was however, very proud of the things I’d accomplished in my career, as a father, and as his son. He made it a point on that sunny afternoon to encourage me to do all of the things I wished to do in my life. I replied to him with a promise that I would. I continue to do so. The following morning, he passed away just as I arrived at the hospital. My father was a hard worker, a good man, a teacher, an inspiration, and an innovator.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve made it a point to continually evaluate my life’s focus. It’s a healthy place, always providing me that personal opportunity to think ahead and move forward. I believe in it. I’ve also discovered the truth in surrounding yourself with the right people. During the past decade I’ve been extremely fortunate to be involved with some of the most influential people I’ve ever known in my life, most of whom I’ve met through my circles in education. I have the greatest respect for these friends and colleagues, especially their commitment, dedication, and willingness to make such a positive impact on others. While I find it to be such common nature to do what I do, I continually find it humbling to receive warm accolades from those I consider principal influences in my own life. Their praise and inspiration never go unnoticed as they continue to inspire and propel me.

Innovation. My life has continually been directed by that very concept. As a parent, a fine artist, or middle aged adult returning to college, there have always been a few common threads running through each of those chapters in my life… forward thinking and reinvention of self. My rewards in return have been personal growth and knowledge. As I near the age my father was when we shared that long talk on that warm afternoon in 1993, I look back and realize that very little has changed since I was the young, curious, and spirited son of that blue-collared military man. I continue with my promise and my life path, always hoping to move in that direction ahead of me. Forward.

defining self. remembering others.

Defining Self

Between the news I heard last week and the question I was asked this morning, I've spent much of today taking a far closer look than normal at myself.

Following my morning coffee, weeding through emails, and a few good morning kisses from the pups, I headed out the door for Sunday worship. Recently I've missed more sermons than heard and today I wanted to change that trend. It is after all a new year. For me, the best messages aren't those that are simply well prepared and delivered from a pulpit, but instead the ones that suggest deeper thought and self-evaluation. Today was one of those kinds of sermons. The takeaway as I made my walk to the car was quite simple, “what defines me?”

Ironically I’d already begun asking myself this very question on Friday afternoon upon hearing that a friend had passed away. I was shocked by the news and to my surprise, she hadn’t passed recently, Friday marked the fourth anniversary and I never knew. Naturally, I spent the balance of Friday in memory mode. It was a healthy mental time and two days after receiving the news, it continues.

The older I become, I find myself holding onto my past more than I once did. I certainly don't make it a point to live for the past, but I have great respect for it being responsible for much of the very thing my pastor discussed this morning. In all of it’s greatest, worsts, and more than it’s share of mediocre days, my past defines the very man that I am today.

Reflection is a way I continue moving forward. That evaluation of knowing where I’ve been propels me. My father guided and taught me more than his share from the time I was a child through my adulthood. His far too early death nineteen years ago however didn’t erase those life lessons. I still use them… many of them daily.

Although we hadn’t seen one another in several years, the news of Donna’s passing still saddens me. To say that she died too young is such a cliché, but it’s the best I can come up with and the fact is, she did. I’m incredibly grateful however for all of the life and laughter that she brought to mine. Each of them are now blessings.

The passing of time continues to move quicker than it once did, all the while defining me and defining us. Hold onto it.