My Fish
My Fish
Acrylic, Graphite, Cotton Rag Paper
26 x 22

Almost every summer we spent at least a week in Ocean City. My mother’s family was from a town just inland. This was still home even though my grandparents had moved to the city way back during the Depression for work when my mother was five. Old pictures of my mother, grandparents, and great grandfather were often fishing from docks in nearby rivers.
One of my earliest memories, when I was three or four was being set down in a beach chair and my grandfather casting out a big surf rod out past the breakers. He then stuck the rod in the sand in front of me and show me how to feel for a strike on the line and walk away.
Later on, I must have been eleven or so, the families that rented apartments between 11th and 13th after Labor Day would send the kids down to the bayside dock in the morning with the Hall’s housekeeper to fish. This so the parents could sleep in. This was my mother’s one chance all year to really relax. She did not have a housekeeper.