This past June, I wanted to honor my father and his father for Father’s Day. My dad’s birthday lands right around Father’s Day, so this painting was a two-for-one special.

For this painting, I interviewed my dad to learn more about my grandfather. I realize that as my parents get older, hearing and preserving family histories is an opportunity to learn more about myself and can serve as an inspiration for artwork. Some of the facts I found out included:

• My grandfather Frank was born in August 30, 1919. He was 24 years old when he was drafted for WWII in 1942. He was part of the American troops who traveled first to to London before going to Normandy. While in London, he slept in the underground to avoid being bombed.
• He was part of Cobra operation and in WW2 he served as a merchant marines convoy in Mermansk, Russia .

• Grandpa Frank went to church; he would often say to my dad that, “There are no atheists in foxholes,” referencing how the horror of war, and the miracle of surviving it, deepened his faith in God.
• After the war, he attended Seaton Hall University to get his undergraduate degree and then New York University to get his Masters in Accounting. Apparently he never did CPA exam and regretted it.
• He worked for RABCO for 9 months. He was going to move to Arabia there but got married to my dad’s mom, Patricia, who was close to Grandpa Frank’s sister in New Jersey.
• My dad described Grandpa Frank as a good soul, a saint. He was the Treasurer of Union Association Jr. College and was a caller for their local bingo. He sent his kids, my dad, aunt and uncles, to St. Michael’s Catholic School. In order to help pay for their schooling, he would help out with the accounting every Wednesday to get a discount. On Saturdays, he would take my dad to Elizabeth and grocery shop for his parents (my great grandparents). My greatgrand father was a chef and would make pea soup and hot dogs. 
• Grandpa Frank was a swimmer, something me and my siblings continued.
• He then worked at Remington Ran to make typewriters, guns, shavers, etc. and he would commute to NYC. The company moved to PA and Frank and Pat didn’t want to move so he switched jobs.
• Then he worked at Restaurant Associates, which owned and operated many expensive restaurants in NYC, for example, Mama Leone’s which my dad described as reminiscent of the Italian restaurant in The Godfather. My dad ate there when he was 9 – 10 and ordered Lobster tail and didn’t know how to eat it. To go he and his brothers had to have on expensive jackets and ties. 
• When Robert Kennedy died, my dad was 10; it was June 6, 1968. They had a funeral at St. Patrick’s in NYC and had a funeral train procession from NYC to DC in Arlington cemetery. They lived close to the trains, and Grandpa Frank took his kids to see it; waited 4 – 5 hours but it never came because it was delayed by 8 hrs.
• Grandpa Frank died when he was 74. He never smoked but he died from lung cancer, possibly due to secondhand lung smoke. I feel very fortunate that I was able to meet him as a kid before he passed away, especially since his wife, Grandma Pat, died just months before I was born.

The painting was based on a reference photo below. Because my grandfather was born in Germany, but then served in the American forces to defeat the Nazis, and because of the current political climate in America, I chose to title this painting “Fuck Fascism” to make it very clear what my grandfather and so many other American soldier fought to defeat in WWII. It is imperative that as an American I continue my grandfather’s legacy, and challenge my family when they vote or act in ways that encourage fascism or other forms of institutionalized evil.

As I mentioned above, I started this painting in June and was able to finish it in late August when I went to Topsail Beach, NC with my mother and father. I was busy that week leading a meditation retreat online and with the TU MFA program. I was able to work inside at the dinner table and look out at the ocean from the main window. Our rented beach house was right next to a Loggerhead turtle nest and while we were there, the turtles hatched. We actually got to see one heading out to the ocean! That moment inspired the view in the painting behind my grandfather – a baby turtle following the moon back out to the ocean. I feel connected to my father through his love of the beach, and the connection with turtles, a symbol of longevity, wisdom, and long life, and the journey we all make along ancestral lines of birth, life, and the afterlife. Below are some of the photos I took at the beach.

Thanks for reading! ❤