Sketching the Generations

I was living in Iowa City with my family when I was age 8 and my parents took my brother and me to a flea market. There was a sketch artist, earning a few bucks drawing portraits of people. My parents sat their boys down and the artist drew.

I don’t know where that drawing is today. But I remember my brother smiled for the sketch while I insisted on keeping a straight face. My father told us I looked like a fullback from Notre Dame and my brother looked like an end from Syracuse.

During my recent trips to the San Diego Zoo, I’d noticed an artist who was drawing caricatures of Zoo patrons. I carried that childhood memory with me and decided I would have my children drawn. We finally did it yesterday.


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