GOD COUNTRY #4 VARIANT COVER

In the coming few weeks I plan to post as much of my collection as I can bear for something entirely self serving. As much as I enjoy sharing the art with those of you on the board...I also would like to share a memory of my dad with each post. To the artist, I do apologize for using your images for such a personal thing...to the guys and gals here on CAF if it seems misplace to see comments like this, please know that I kinda needed some sort of space for this to exist because...

in July my dad passed away alone.


My dad grew up a runaway. He was born on a farm in Italy the oldest of 3 sons. As the oldest he was expected to rein in the other two and when he couldn't his father would take it out on him. One day he had had enough and as a teenager he left that home. He made his way into a city, found a job as a cook and lived above the restaurant...and as we would have it, meet my mom.

This will bring me to my first memory to share...a simple and wholesome one. As a kid we had this great big green trunk in the basement. It was always filled with blankets in the summer time and we were always putting stickers on it. A great big buckle in front with a key lock we would always try to pick open like robbers trying to crack a safe. We got good at it. With the right bend in a paper clip and a flat head screwdriver, it was the coolest. I will never forget the smell of mothballs, it was such a thing back in the day. During summer vacations the entire basement was a blanket fort we never took down...but my dad would pack it all away when school started. They all went back into the green trunk...the same green trunk my parents packed up as teenagers in Italy. The same green trunk that carried everything they owned to make the move to the United States. Ya see, the green trunk was covered with inspection stickers from passenger liners and baggage checks from bus terminals from that voyage it took from Italy to that basement. It never bothered my dad when we got stickers from the packs of gum or baseball cards, he knew where they would end up. I figure he realized a long time ago he would never have to use the green trunk to move again...he found his home.

So here, a special place in my gallery...in memoriam of my dad.


Special thx to Migs De Castro for letting go of this and everything he had to do to smuggle it out of Canada during the post strike.