Saturday, October 30, 2010
JR, Where The Hell Are Ya?
Did a few free hand, get acquainted heads of my son Jon. I'm not there yet. He's still no where to be seen. May have to go to pencils and erasers? May have to pull out the grid? Will trim his beard--there;s an upper lip in there somewhere. What is it with these mountain men insisting upon hiding their handsome faces behind so much hair?
JR's my baby, an x football player, (no. 77), who played both offence and defense in high school and could have played in college if he had been just four inches taller. We put him on the rack, but failed. Still just six one, only the schools with second string teams were after him, but his heart wanted Michigan State. At college, he hung up his pads and helmet and saved his knees. Grew up, moved out West, built a ranch, built an automotive garage on his land and fixes other mountain mens' trucks when he's not fixing Hondas. I had no idea he liked cars and trucks. I didn't know he knew what an engine was, how to build a structure with a well and a lift, or anything at all about automotive computer systems. He surprised and amazed me. I did teach my boys to follow their hearts. And my biggest hearted boy took the biggest step out of the life we all knew. He became his own man, an independent, self sufficient guy who makes my heart swell with pride.
The closest I got to a likeness was the sketch I blew up, but hold off on the cigars. Today, a couple of charcoals might help me get the proportions I keep screwing up with the marker. As for his California gal, she's now drinking out of a proper glass for red wine. (I had no idea Strathmore Drawing pads came in grades. Live and learn).