It really is time to take my search for the artist to the experts who might know or who would at least know how to know.

I think his name is Mathewson.

Why he wrote his name so differently everytime I don't know. Why we hid or edited our past so highly I do not know. Herbert is called George, Pat is really Frank, Anne Green is really the mother of the children and not the sister. My mothers mother is irnorant, arrogant and probabley suffers from what might be called a mental 'condition' but she is brave.

Growing up I did not know my grandfather was from a 'broken' family. So was my grandmother. Her father ran off to Los Angeles or something. Said he was going to take her with him but she needed to get her sweater. She runs in the house to get her sweater and he drove off. He was gone. She had her sweater in her hand. She was looking down the road. He was driving out of her life even when she had her sweater. Oh yes, the broken family term.

I have written it down, but these are not the story lines we lived by, these are tiny pieces gleaned somehow from whisps and whispers. Puffs of history captured. They are not so good or so bad, but just screaming from being unspoken. To me that's how it feels. It just has a bad fung shui. Story line is very good. The people, all of them, are brave.

And so, we felt our lives were clean, better, yes better, unseen, as to not be 'like the others'.

We were not allowed to see our own humanness, our mistakes, our failures. Our unperfect parts. These pieces of human living were not allowed to be lived in the fabric of our venier. Truly, I was told we were pretty close to perfect. We did things right. These words were not told exactly but greatly implied in what was not said, or thought.

We were nice people doing nice things and thinking nice thoughts. Nice meaning, highly edited.

Actually, my brother, sister and myself all present as if we were raised by alcaholics. Children of alcaholics keep secrets, and know what not to say. We were that. Be nice. Pretend.

Nothing was really bad it was just a bit of a lie. Lies of omission. It remeinds me of wonder bread. Wonder Bread, which we ate all the time, will not kill you, it just is not as complete as you were told it was. It won't kill you but it can cause your death.