My grandfather was always trying to steal my sugar. His face seemed scruffy, he smelled a bit of chewing tobacco...he picked me up in his arms and proceeded to kiss my neck and exclaim, "I'm going to steal all your sugar," while madly kissing at my neck. I screamed, laughed and fought him off. He put me down as he sashayed over to give my grandmother a kiss and she told him to mind his manners.

My grandfather was always my favorite. Sometimes I think we have lost a lot of what Texas is...my grandfather was it. Chewing tobacco and cigars, a felt cowboy hat, he knew about horses, cows, pigs and oilfields. I wanted to know about these things, particularly about horses.

There was a streak of honestly, fairness and compassion in him, but I wouldn't have wanted to cross him either. Animals loved him, children loved him. Men respected him. There was just something about him that was larger than life.







When I was in college and first became interested in photography...it was to him and a piece of property that had been in our family that I was drawn to photograph. The negatives are all gone and most of the prints...the only record surviving some poorly processed. But I loved taking them, riding in his truck out to feed the cows, but mostly being with him and trying to capture the moment in black and white, with my brand new Canon AE1...yes it's been a long time.