This is a narrative that incorporates the truth, stretches the truth, and at times downright distorts the truth. In order to avoid embarrassing complications I have changed some names of people and places. If you imagine that you have discovered yourself somewhere within these pages, then you are most likely departed, a figment of my imagination, or a close relative or friend.
“Why would anyone be interested in a story of your life?” I was asked, to which I could only reply, “They wouldn’t.”
This is not, however, a story of my life. It is a story of people and places; genealogy and inheritance; neurosis and wisdom; separation and reunion; gathering and division; father and son; success and failure; life and death; animation and still life; historical fact and fiction. This is a deoxyribonucleic acid trip through two generations and the passing of a quixotic torch. It is a three-dimensional view of a man that, for my brother and I, remained two-dimensional for over forty years.
This is my eulogy to Pappy, an inadvertent epitaph engraved in the wind that scatters his ashes and mixes them among those of the greatest and the least of human experience.
Blabberjam 