Mark Twain is one of the historical figures I’d kneel at the feet of…
….if’n I had H.G. Wells’ Time Machine.
So, reckon I won’t.
For a dead guy, Twain taught me a LOT! I wanted to BE Huckleberry Finn, but the boys across the street made me play Becky Thatcher.
At any rate, Huckleberry Finn was the story that first illuminated for me love and friendship transcending the color of one’s skin.
I remember in first grade hearing adults whispering about two black girls attending my school, St. Pius X in Toledo, Ohio.
And these people obviously had infinitely more to fear from the priests in the diocese than they did from little brown-skinned children.
I probably should have textured up Twain’s suit, but I gave myself the thirty minute deadline. I actually held the pencil clenched in my fist like a kindergartner holding a big, fat crayon. That seemed to speed up the process.
I loved drawing him.
Twain’s gnarly nose just fuckin’ rocks! So, do his brows. They look like Beta fish or caterpillars.