Walter Christian Larsen

As all fathers and sons do, we've had our share of

problems, battles, arguments and screaming matches, but

most of them have been about the "old bull" butting heads

with the "young bull," and as my maturity has grown through

the years (well, maybe just a little), and my father has grown

through the years, we have had a peace between us.

My father always worked during my childhood years,

even finding a way to work when the economy was tight,

while always continuing with his incredible works of art (and

then he was shocked for so many years that I worked so

hard at my own art) -- he always believed that art was more

for hobby than an actual job. Whenever

I said I was going to be a writer he'd

tell me (with some wisdom, I have

learned by taking the hard route)

that art was fine as a hobby, but

that I needed a "real job." Still,

all through the years, I watched

as my father did oil paintings,

incredibly detailed miniature

sculptures in gold and silver,

wickedly funny quick-sketch

cartoon caricatures of people, snow sculptures (my dad

wasn't the kind of father to make a snowman with his kids,

it had to be a detailed and lifelike snow poodle!), he sang

in the church choir with a beautiful voice, and told incredible

stories about his boyhood years (although the details some-

times changed, which I was always quick to point out!),

and when I was a teenager he actually sat down to write

out a novel in longhand!

A vegetarian his entire life, he proved the wisdom in following

God's original diet, as he grew to a massive 6'4" in height (he

still somehow manages to dwarf me, even though I made it

to 6'2"). A true Danish viking, even in his mid-sixties he possesses

almost supernatural strength (I was lucky enough to inherit this

strength, and many an incredible arm-wrestle we've had, until he

began to cheat to keep the young bull down!

Growing up I never doubted that my father loved me, even if I knew we didn't like

each other that much -- the thing of it is, people are different, and my father and I had

completely at-odds personalities. If he'd ever been my boss I wouldn't get past the

first week on the job before he fired me! But I always had the sense that my dad was

my protector, that he would not hesitate to put his body between me and danger, even

at the peril of his own life (thank God he never had to prove it!). And I'll tell you, one of

the most incredible things ever, my father never deserted his family, despite being

the product of a broken family himself -- he did not repeat the mistake of his father.

In today's world, that is quite an impressive feat. My mother and father have been

married for more than forty years!

Retired now, my father has discovered his deeper voice in poetry, and has

proved quite successful at it, and if you visit his web pages, not only will you have the

opportunity to read his work, but you can also see his incredible talent in sketching, even HOW he creates

his work! I understand him better now, and I think he can understand his son a little better as well. Art, the

Internet, age, and God has opened a way for us to communicate without hostility, and has opened my eyes

to perceive just how lucky I was to have a father like mine.

I owe a lot to my father. He was my example for masculinity, and he was secure enough with his own

maleness that he was able to offer love and affection to his children. While never gushingly affectionate, he

did kiss me and my sisters, and praised us -- we always knew he was proud of us, and loved us. He taught

me to never run away from a fight, but that before anything else I had better attempt to talk my way out of it,

and if that didn't work, then I better attempt to walk away from it -- and if I was attacked from behind, then

feel free to go ballistic in order to protect myself. Never start a fight, but never hesitate to be the one that

ends it -- the one that puts out his hand in friendship. It has proven good advice throughout my life.

My mother has been my good friend throughout my life, and though my father and I never shared this

kind of easy rapport, he has always been someone I've known I could go to, he has always proved a solid

foundation in my life. It says a lot that my father was always able to love me, despite our differences,

disposition, personality and mindset. Some people fit together like puzzle pieces, which is how my mother

and my personalities fit -- as far as passions go, I received more of the fiery Hungarian blood than my

father's stoic Nordic winter blast. But even pieces that do not fit together easily, still in the end go into

making up the same picture, and what an honor it was for me to receive my father's genetic creativity.

I love you, Dad! Thanks for being a strong man, a strong artist, and a strong father.

Art et Amour Toujours

Your Son

Douglas Christian Larsen