4. The step father
My step father, who had become my arch enemy since my mother remarried, told me he could bend six inch nails in his teeth, and showed me that life could be a bitch, and to make it you had to have a ‘real’ job, not some fancy art college, and so for the first fifteen years of my working history, I built places and stuck pipes together, sidetracking only to start my own appliance repair shop, but that’s another story. It was then, I realized, that I had been born into the working class. How come you screwed up so badly God?
At about eighteen I won my independence when my step-father died, and in celebration of that freedom, ironically, two years later I got married and had my first two kids!
Now being married, for better or worse, (more worse than better), at least I had an engineering job that gave me a solid income, and though it was not where I wanted to be, it also gave me many different surfaces to draw on. Whether it was a oil tanker needing a logo, or a canteen table, I was there with a pencil decorating it.
That really got me noticed, and it wasn’t long before my fellow workers had me drawing pornographic images to sell to truck drivers, my first encounter with fame and mass production, but no fortune, and worse, I later became a plumber driving a Reliant Robin!