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My father took me to a rock and gem show.... when I was 3 or 4.. or so I assume... I wasnt in school yet and he left by the time my sister was born... but thats not the story.... and I have a few from then too...:) Learning to read almost before I could speak... chess games with grown men.. being carried home because the snow was too deep for me to walk in...

This one is about the show.... the first time I saw turquoise and met Navajo silversmith....

My father had to hold me up so I could see..... its was then I connected.. minds eye to work.. the act of making something out of raw materials....

I watched him work...  my father wanted to move on.. the Smith said "let him stay" I have a stool he can watch from... He left me there...I watched.. I looked.. sand cast and conchas...eyes blue like mine.. Navajo
dark..big.. that I was a boy and unable to see over the counter didn't matter.. it was about the work... and how smiths are made... and the rest of my life silver has been woven in and out of my world..  the blue of turquoise like a robins egg or a clear sky....

I work on a stump... make my own tools...cut my own stamps.. and remember what I saw... its not about money.... its creation.. and making a piece of self.... repeating older stories than mine.. the migration and 4 directions.. the rain and winds..  the sun.. 

I still think about the Smith and how he took time to show me what he did.... Funny no?