9 1 1

     This is a hard frustrating day and I will be glad to get it over with.  This sign that I am working on is difficult to complete and nothing is going right on it,  What else can go wrong?  As if to answer my unspoken question, the front entrance alarm goes off.  By the time I get to the office door, it quits.  As I step into the office, I can see that the customer is agitated by the noise.  "May I help you?" I ask.  "Yeah," he snaps, "give me all your money!"  I could see the 45 in his right hand.
    The seriousness of the situation escaped me for a fleeting moment and I laugh at his ignorance.  "I don't have any money here, everybody pays me with a check."  This pisses him off and he pulls the trigger.  The shock and pressure of the explosion and bullet knocks me back and onto the floor.  As he comes around the counter, the half door slams shut behind him.  I can see the torn sneakers and smell the foot odor emanating from the tears.  He rolls me over and removes my wallet.  It's going to be hell getting another drivers license.  He doesn't take time to look inside, if he did he would shoot me again, for there was no money there.
     I hear the front door alarm as he leaves.  By now the pain is sharp and intense in my chest.  The only good thing is that I fell near the phone.  If I only had one of those pendants I would just mash the button.  I try several times to reach the phone, but it is just out of reach.  Finally, I get hold of the cord and drag the receiver down.  As I get it to my ear I hear, "Hello Mr. Sims, what is your emergency?"  "How do you know my name?" I ask.  "When the light goes out, it shows your name." the voice on the other side of the phone replied.  Ok, that is weird I think to myself.  "I have just been robbed and shot."  "How bad is it?" he asked, not at all surprised.  "Pretty bad!"  "There is a big hole in my chest and blood is soaking the floor all around me."
     "Are you alone?"  he asks again.  What's with all the questions, I wonder to myself."Oh God, help me!" I exclaim.  "Oh augh lord it hurts."  "yeah, I am."  It is a struggle to answer him, the blood is spilling into my lungs and I can hear the gurgling sounds as I struggle to breathe.  "Mr. Sims, stay with me."  I can hardly hear him.  "We have someone on the way, just hold on."  Now he seems to be more involved with my situation.  It is getting dark around the edges, but the center is bright and the colors are vivid.  I can hardly move and breathing is a struggle.  The blood is seeping out the corners of my mouth and joining with the larger pool on my chest.
     "Have you been a good man?"  the voice asks.  What does that matter?, I ask myself. I carry the conversation on to myself, I don't beat my wife and animals and I pay my taxes.  Does that count for anything?  "Yeah, I think so" I answer out loud.  "Do you give to the poor?"  Again, what's with all the questions, I wonder as the pain gets stronger.  "Some times", I gurgle out.  As the blood loss makes me weaker, I hear, "Are you worthy of help?"  At this, I hear another voice on the line say, "This one belongs to Me, go get him and bring him home."
     I do not hear the front door alarm go off, but I see the attendants come in dressed all in white.  They reach under my armpits and lift me to my feet and walk me to the chariot.  It is powered by two white steeds.  The pain is gone and I have never felt so alive in my life.  As the horses take off, it does not bother me that we are rising off the ground,  I can see the river Jordan in the distance and familiar faces on the other side.  There is grandpa and grannie with dad in front.  What a glorious sight.  There are two  children, brothers that died before birth, this is going to be great.
     "How did you find him, Jeff?"  Eddie asked.  "I was finishing my shift and on my way home,  I saw the shop door open and that is unusual for this time of day."  "So I decided to stop and look around."  "As soon as I found him, I radioed dispatch."  Jeff declared.  "Thats too bad, he never knew what hit him."  "The sad thing is that when he hit the wall, it tore the phone line out.  If he had just been able to call someone, he may still be alive."  Eddie said.  "Yeah, but the way he is smiling, maybe he did connect with someone", Jeff said hopefully.

Dale Earnhardt

This is a portrait of Dale Earnhardt, that I painted on a turkey feather.

The Fan

 I know a little Spanish,

 I struggle with English,

 but I am fluent in dyslexia.

Did you see the thunder?

No, I reply,

but I heard the lightening.

The dog needs to be

checked for flicks

and teas.  That could take

a while.

I know that I am getting

older, my thin is

getting skinner.

My all-time favorite

"When she finds out

the fan is going to

hit the ceiling",

which is much more

descriptive than

the original.  It leaves

the fan and surrounding

area cleaner also.

Put the dishes in

the hamper and the

dirty clothes in

the sink.  If you do

as you hear,

then the fan will

hit the ceiling.

Are you sweeping

or alake? 

No, I have one eye

shut and the other closed.

I have had a wonderful

wife, with my dyslexic

life.  She is a Gemini,

the two for control

fight.  Alas, I, the

third am nowhere in

sight.

Sandblast

This is a 2 1/2 x 5 ft. sandblasted redwood sign that was done at the shop, C & S Signs.  The panel is redwood painted with 1-Shot sign enamels.

Dichotomy Parade

This is a 10'x32' acrylic on plywood mural. The catch is that in 1923 when this photo was taken the guy driving the carriage was black. I had to change his color to white so that it would not demean the black race. I tried to tell the mayor that the driver was the only one in a top hat and coat and tie. However to appease everyone, I had to change his color and legacy.