AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Cindy Sherman, a very famous artist, had an exhibition where she took mementos from her home, wrapped them up in paper, and placed these parcels on the floor of an art gallery. The show got rave reviews.

I figured I would go her one better and thereby become famous. Therefore I placed my mementos in open boxes for all to see. Each box recounts a memory and comes with a vignette. Some are from my childhood; some are of recent vintage; some are important --- some trivial. The boxes that are not open are for my secrets. A few of my memories are set down below:

When I was 16 I went to a very rustic summer camp in New Hampshire . The bathroom facilities were over a 100 yards from the bunk so we often relieved ourselves by standing on a large rock some yards behind our bunk. We had distance contests and I remember streaming out eight feet on a regular basis. It was a beautiful sight. Today, I feel lucky if I make it into the bowl without leaning over.

One day Judy announced to me that she was having the kitchen done over because she couldn't stand the way it looked, especially the discolored counter tops. I hadn't noticed any deterioration, but it was too late to do anything so I just grimaced. When the job was finished Judy was thrilled with the way it looked. We went out to dinner to celebrate!

Judy thinks I am a terrible dresser. I leave for the studio early in the morning before she is awake so I can wear whatever I like. But if we are going out in the evening, Nine times out of 10 she disapproves of the outfit I've put on. She generally says some­thing like, "Your shoes don't go with your pants and your pants don't go with your shirt." It was much worse years ago when we lived in New York and I also had to guess which jacket and tie to wear.

In the early years of our marriage I refused to change my clothes, but as I grew older and mellower I worked out a deal where I would agree to change any one item of clothing.

Sometimes if I want to get on her good side I let her pick out my entire ensemble before I get dressed. If I weren't such a famous artist I wouldn't mind as much. Do you think Mrs. Picasso made her hus­band change his clothes?

In April 2000 I finally made it to the “almost-big time” when three of my installations and three of my books were exhibited at the Museum of Art in Fort Lauderdale . The exhibition was very well received. My whole family came for the opening. The next morning I had a conversation with Sean , my youngest grandchild, which puts the whole event in its proper prospective. I asked him how he liked his visit to the museum, "I liked it," he said, "The food was good."

My brother and I shared the same room when I was a teenager. When we went to sleep Bob would always hang his tie on the doorknob, and both ends had to be even. If I were mad at him, after he had gotten into bed, I would just pull one end of the tie so that the ends were no longer even. Without saying a word he would get out of bed and straighten the ends of the tie. I never did it more than once an evening, probably because I would have had to get out of bed myself to repeat the foul deed. We got along very well together despite these episodes.