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A Pipe Organ

  sketch: Pipe Organ (More of the Pipe Saga), by douglas brent smith During the period of time when I occasionally drew an addition to the Pipe Saga, my dad smoked a pipe. He had sense to quit later, but while he did the smell was wonderful. The pipes I drew were humorous and with a nod to the surrealists, especially Magritte who was at the time perhaps my favorite artist.  On a more fantastical note, I really would like to play that pipe organ, wouldn't you?

Alaskan Pipe Line

Sketch: Alaskan Pipe Line, from journal #10, cry Wolf, 1977 Note: My dad smoked a pipe for years. He favored two flavors of tobacco , one was Old Hickory and the other I do not remember. It's a filthy habit of course but I did enjoy the smell and he did seem so peaceful whenever he had a pipe in his mouth. It was no good for his teeth of course, which he lost and wore dentures for years but that was also probably because of the gallons of heavily sugared iced tea that he drank. We all drank too much iced tea. I haven't been to Alaska yet as of this date but it is one of only three states that I have not been to, the others being Hawaii and Montana. Funny, two of them were not states when I was born -- as I often say "that's how OLD I am..." I did contemplate traveling to work the Alaskan pipe line -- the actual oil line and not the cartoon -- but correctly determined that it was all probably too rugged for me. Life certainly would have changed in a different path,

my father's house

my father's house bears change these days the voices bouncing off the walls are not those of my family                                           but of strangers taking the space i once knew so well they speak with West Virginia accents                                                              strangely and treat me as a stranger there are few things left in my father's house to remind me of familial love to comfort me in shared history something has been transplanted and another thing supplanted my father's house which once was also mine is no longer even my father's house. douglas brent smith