When I was a child I lived in a northern New Jersey suburb. The river flooded one year and spilled over it's banks,turning our backyard into a lake that approached the steps of our back porch. The road in front of our house also flooded, and my friend's sister fell into an open manhole cover but was grabbed out and rescued. A man came floating through our backyard on a wooden raft. He was wearing a beret and painting a painting. My mother asked him "can I help you?" He replied" Oh I thought this was the river" I tugged at my mom and implored her to invite him in for coffee. It's not everyday that such an interesting character floats through your backyard, but he just kept floating away. This was one of the first times that "the artist way of life" registered in my little child consciousness. I thought that he was fantastic and wanted to learn more about the interesting man. Instead all I have are memories of a surreal encounter with nature and a bold and adventurous artist .
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