My dad Stephen Chapman died on March 5th. He was 90 years old.
My dad was made up of words and music
A house full of books and records
Built of films and movie star trivia
Jonathan Winters meets Raymond Carver
Speaking in tongues
Homebrew beer caps exploding and hitting underneath the basement stairs
He was a charming character
Driving gloves and no stops
Old Milwaukee and a book in bed in the afternoon
"Sunrise, Sunset" on a turquoise painted piano
Funny voices, laughter and thunder
Funny faces, piss and vinegar
Opinions, passions, and outrage
A complex collection
Wild loud jazz
Enunciation and projection
An abstract painting come to life
He wasn't like the other dads. He was something else
and I love him exactly as that.
I love you, Dad. Thank you for your encouragement and understanding of me as a painter.
___________________________________________
I turned 53 the next day.
