"Uncle Bob with beret"

I have spoken of my dear Uncle Bob in previous blog entries. Mentor, friend, patron, it was he who long ago bestowed upon me my first beret. I have worn one since I was 16. Coming to grips with looking like a cliché in my teens was tough, but my friends soon got used to it. When Bob comes to Baltimore for a visit, he, too, is wont to wear one, which makes for some sniggering and tittering among the people. For my 50th birthday, my wife bought a gross of black berets and gave them out to my friends. Seeing 80 plus people dressed in black turtle necks and berets was something else. It looked like a giant poetry slam from the 50’s or a Maynard G. Krebs convention. Very cool, daddy-o.

Uncle Bob is fighting the big C, and I am having a hard time concentrating on painting. I thought I would post a little panel I did of him back in ’93. It captures the essence of the man. You have to picture in your mind the 16-ounce Bud in his hand.