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<p>[QUOTE=&quot;Douglas W. Reynolds Jr., post: 10004858, member: 14768&quot;]Goodness I have the hardest time posting replies!</p><p><br /></p><p>This work is disturbing on many levels, but so what? When I was young my father would hang a painting on our wall when he was finished with it; he would ask me if it was straight, and if I were in a bad mood I would tell him it should be in the attic. So that was the environment he had to live in.</p><p><br /></p><p>His younger brother died flying the Hump in Burma during WWII. So immediately he tried to enlist so he could go get himself killed too, flying a C-47 that would run out of fuel on illegal missions to provide supplies to the Nationalist Chinese. </p><p><br /></p><p>That is when he found he had a serious problem with high blood pressure, and was not going anywhere but the doctor’s office.</p><p><br /></p><p>Not the same as bone spurs exactly.</p><p><br /></p><p>So he and my Mom had to live out their lives in what I believe was the most romantic marriage in history—at least, until I married Sheila 49 years ago!</p><p><br /></p><p>Enough background. I don’t know how this painting got on the market; it might well have been given by my father to one of his friends or colleagues, if one of them found it provocative or interesting. He always felt that paintings belonged in people’s homes rather than in museums, that paintings “spoke” to those who acquired them.</p><p><br /></p><p>As many of Dad’s friends and colleagues were college professors, and many had grown up during the Depression, many enjoyed the same salaries and wealth my father enjoyed. So many people enjoyed gifts from my father over time—and when they died, works entered the marketplace.</p><p><br /></p><p>Love is where you find it—but it is everywhere! Keep looking![/QUOTE]</p><p><br /></p>

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