AN EXHIBITION OF THE ART OF LUKE HANS LARSEN

It is said that an artist, if asked to explain a work, will simply point to the work itself. While I believe my work can and will stand on its own, much of it is extremely personal and I believe that someone viewing a work will have a deeper appreciation of the piece if some of its history is known. Accordingly, each piece -- or in some cases a collection -- is shown in this catalog and in many cases a simple statement made concerning it as a piece of art. Following that are comments which you may or may not read as you see fit. They will, I believe, open a new depth for anyone viewing any of the works.

There are many to whom I owe much for their help in making this exhibition possible. However, there are some who must receive public acknowledgment and my deepest thanks and appreciation. Literally, without their help, this exhibition would never have been. Mrs. Millicent Willingham demanded that I produce a worthwhile exhibition and, when money proved a problem, took away that excuse by providing funds. Further, she handled all the publicity for the event and arranged for two receptions following the recital concert and the opening of the exhibition. Mr. Thomas Washington of Lexington Foundry provided materials and labor for the casting of the three bronze statues in the major exhibition piece. Without Herr Hans Dietrich the materials and labor would have been worthless because he provided the expertise needed to cast the bronzes. Uncle Michael Sanders, who was only recently reunited with his brother David Andrews, volunteered to place his years of experience at my disposal in setting up the exhibition and handling any dealer interested in my work. Finally, Mr. John Stephenson, my art teacher since junior high, helped me understand that life requires more than bread and butter; it also requires art. For any acclaim this exhibition may receive, much belongs to him. And, finally, to The Family who gave me life in the beginning and continues to sustain it, this exhibition is dedicated.

Luke Hans Larsen

The exhibition is arranged in four galleries. The main gallery is in the Common Hall and the three smaller galleries are in three classrooms across the hall from the main gallery.  
 

The Main Gallery

The exhibition's major piece Surrounded by So Great a Cloud is set up in the center of the main gallery. The other works in the main gallery are described, beginning at the outside entry and moving clockwise around the hall.
   
 When everyone gathered around the major piece in the main gallery, I removed the veil covering it and, as I did, Mr. Stephenson turned it on.

Surrounded by So Great a Cloud -- A Moving Sculpture: The sculpture consists of three bronze castings -- made using the lost wax process; an etched glass panel -- etched using chemical etching, sandblasting and diamond drill carving; all mounted in a steel framework. The pieces are mounted in a manner which allows them to be moved by small electric motors in the base of the work. The bronze castings are of the three families which make up The Family, my extended family. They are on a scale of approximately one-to-two and average three feet in height. The glass panel is three by five feet by two inches thick.

The Artist's Comments: Of all my work, Surrounded by So Great a Cloud has the most complete history of its evolution available for all to see. On the reverse of the panels behind the sculpture are the sketches I made as the idea evolved. These range from formal sketches in a sketch book to those made on the edge of class notes, to sketches made on school napkins, to several made with felt-tip pen on toilet tissue! Originally, the sculpture was to be a single three-sided sculpture in clay with one side devoted to each of the families which make up The Family. As I sketched and thought about the project, the concept evolved into the sculpture you see before you.

While I was thinking about the sculpture, I ran across an article on the lost wax process of casting bronze and became fascinated with the possibility of having the figures cast. I soon learned there were two major problems connected with using the ancient lost wax process. The first was finding someone who was expert in using the process and the second was money. Fortunately, both were solved at the same time when Mr. John Stephenson, my art teacher, put me in contact with Mr. Thomas Washington of the Lexington Foundry. While the present foundry does not have the expertise to do the casting, Mr. Washington asked a retired craftsman, Herr Hans Dietrich, to look at my clay sculpture. Herr Dietrich graciously came out of retirement to do the casting, and Mr. Washington provided the materials and labor. Neither man would accept payment for their work and the sculpture was made possible through their skill and generosity.

About the time I had decided to cast the statues in bronze, if possible, I recalled a phrase used in the Mass on All Saints' Day: "surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses". The phrase lodged in my mind and I began to think, not of a cloud of witnesses surrounding me and The Family, but the cloud of people who surround us with their love and concern. I very much wanted to capture that idea and honor those as well as The Family. If I could come up with a way to do that, I would solve another problem. Elizabeth Andrews, wife of David and mother of Michael, died two or so years ago. I was struggling with how to include her when the picture was further complicated by the marriage of David to Dr. Margaret Bailey, who had earlier been accepted as a member of The Family. The answer came as I was walking down the street window shopping. I suddenly noticed the reflection of people in the glass of the window. I would, I decided, do a glass panel with the faces of those who surrounded The Family. Again, expense almost eliminated the idea since a sheet of glass large enough to do what I envisioned and the tools and materials to do the etching were expensive. When Mrs. Millicent Willingham gave me money to carry out the project, I was terrified because I had never done work in glass before and knew I would have to teach myself and, more terrifying, had to be successful in doing the panel. Fortunately, I loved every minute of the learning process and was, I believe, successful in carrying it out. Many citizens of Concord may be seen in the panel and at the top is Elizabeth who, The Family knows, still surrounds us with her love.

The final figures are very much as I originally conceived them, except each family became a separate piece and they were cast in bronze from clay sculptures. The faces and torsos of the figures are quite detailed, but the balance of each figure is intentionally unfinished because I believe that at any point in our life we are "unfinished." The figures, it will be noted, are mounted on a revolving steel platform around and above which the etched glass panel, mounted in a steel ring, revolves as well, "surrounding" The Family.

At the close of this exhibition, Surrounded by So Great a Cloud will find a permanent home at the James Sanders' Hospitality House where, it is to be hoped, those staying to be near loved ones in the Concord Hospice will find themselves surrounded by love and concern.

        As soon as the veil was removed, there was absolute silence in the room, so much so I wondered what was going on. I soon found out as I looked around. The expressions on the faces of the people I loved told me I had struck a chord in each of them. I watched as tears formed in the eyes of Michael and David. Mom and Dad both reached out and placed an arm around my waist. Matt walked up behind me and kissed me on the neck then put his arms around me. Yong Jin and Greywolf were suddenly holding hands as David reached behind himself and took Margaret's hand in his. Mary Kathryn walked in front of me and pulled my arms around her waist. Silence still reigned. Finally Michael spoke, his voice choked with emotion, "There's Mom, still watching over us all." Once he spoke, others started speaking.
        "There's Chelsea and Gladys and Dr. Walker. Without their having watched over us, this wonderful piece would never have been," Matt whispered. Then, in a voice tinged with a some anger, he continued, "Luke Larsen, how could you have ever dared think of taking your talent from us and the world? How could you have dared take this from us? How could you dare?" The "silence in church" atmosphere which had prevailed was broken and others started naming the people in the cloud: Uncle Michael and Mr. Stephenson, Ms. Jones, the entire Fellowship, Mr. Swartz, Fr. Tom and about a dozen others.
         "Luke, if this was all you had done, your exhibition and your stature as an artist would have been firmly established," Greywolf said.
          After everyone had stood looking at the piece for a very long time -- the glass panel had made two or three revolutions -- Mom said, "I think we need to kinda stay together as we move through the rest of this exhibition". The Family agreed -- of course the Fellowship, including Michael and Mary Kathryn, had seen all the other works in the gallery and hung back so Mom and Dad, and all the others could see everything.

The Family: A series of eleven paintings portraying the members of the artist's extended family. While there are slight variations in the size of the eleven canvases, all are approximately four feet high and conform to the Greek idea of the Golden Section, a height to width ratio which is expressed by the formula w/h = h/w + h, or about 3/5. All except one have a similar background, a grayed off-white which helps each figure seem to stand out from that background. The eleven use the full range of acrylic painting techniques from what may first appear to be pen and ink drawing through the delicate colors and edges of watercolor to paint applied in the manner of oils.The figures are painted to provide some insight into how the artist sees the members of The Family, his relationship to each person and often the person's ethnic background. Each canvas is complete unto itself but the whole is greater than its parts in that, taken together, the eleven paintings picture The Family -- not just individual members.

 
  "I think each of you will recognize the subjects of The Family," I said.

Beowulf -- Jens Larsen: Jens Larsen, the artist's father, is of Scandinavian background and, accordingly, is portrayed as Beowulf, the great Scandinavian hero. He is pictured in full battle gear, except for his helmet which he holds in his left hand. The bloody sword in his right hand suggests he is resting after having killed another monster. The early Anglo-Saxons were great metal workers in iron, bronze, and gold. Gold ornaments were frequently enameled in bright and beautiful colors. To accomplish the look of such work in this painting, a great deal of gold leaf has been used, along with extremely high-gloss acrylic paint.

The Artist's Comments: My father is a modern Anglo-Saxon hero to me. His monsters -- it is true -- are not external, but he has done battle against internal monsters, monsters which challenge his loyalties. I was extremely interested in including the beautiful "duck" helmet uncovered in the Sutton Hoo excavations, but to have Beowulf wearing it would have completely obscured Jens' face. At the same time as I struggled with how to show his face and the helmet, Jens had what was probably his greatest struggle and, when I realized he had -- again -- slain the monster, I suddenly thought about presenting him as resting immediately after his victory -- helmet in hand. The ornaments and helmet are based upon those uncovered in the excavations at Sutton Hoo, England, which have provided much of our knowledge of the skills of the Vikings.

 
        As Dad approached "Beowulf", he stopped quickly, looked at the catalogue, looked at the painting and his eyes filled with tears. "Luke, you have honored me far beyond what I deserve. Matt asks how you could dare think of taking your life, I ask myself how I could have dared to treat you as I did. And, my God, I even thought of disowning you. Son, can you -- and Matt -- ever forgive me?" He was crying openly, something I had seen him do very few times in my life.

"Dad, I hope the painting answers your question." Dad wrapped me in his arms and hugged me so tightly I thought I would stop breathing. "Thanks, Dad," I said as he released me. He then embraced Matt in an equally tight bearhug.
  

German Tavern Maid -- Gabrielle Larsen: Gabriel, the artist's mother, is German -- Bavarian to be exact -- and is portrayed as a Bavarian tavern maid of, perhaps, the eighteenth or nineteenth century. She is dressed in Bavarian dress -- a low-cut white blouse with puffed sleeves and a richly embroidered skirt and vest. She is shown carrying a tray laden with food above her head with one hand and steins of beer in the other. The tavern and patrons are done with light brush strokes in earth tones, only slightly darker than the background.

The Artist's Comments: Originally when I thought about a painting of my mother, I decided to present her as Brunnhilde, the heroine in Wagner's "Ring of the Nibelrung". In fact, I even started that painting. I had chosen Brunnhilde to be Gabrielle because of my mother's ferocious loyalty and devotion to The Family, and her willingness to sacrifice on their behalf. That incomplete painting is exhibited directly below the final representation of Gabrielle. However, as I painted, Brunnhilde seemed too war-like to represent Gabrielle. I then saw her in terms of her care for The Family and realized she was more like a tavern maid -- youthful, joyful, playful and dedicated to seeing that the physical needs of its members are met while being a good listener and one who did not allow her personal concerns to overshadow her concern for family members. Also, I knew that a tavern maid was there to serve, but that there were limits beyond which she would not budge -- Gabrielle, my mother! Finally, I see my mother as a beautiful young woman and the tavern maid is surely that!

        When the group moved to German Tavern Maid, Mom immediately started laughing. "Luke, how did you know I once wanted to be a tavern maid? Some of my happiest memories are of going to the tavern with my dad and watching the maids waltzing around, keeping the customers' hands off while flirting like mad. It seemed so much fun!" She, then, looked at the catalogue and, after reading what I had written, "Nice to know your grown son still thinks of you as a beautiful young woman!" she said as she kissed me. "And I am really glad you didn't finish the Brunnhilde one. I always thought she was too serious and a pushy broad." Her laugh proved the tavern maid was an accurate representation of my mom.
 
  

Water Sprite of the River Falls -- Mary Kathryn Larsen: Mary Kathryn, my sister, is portrayed as a water sprite at the falls on the Sequoyah River which runs through the families' farms. She is seen here, nude, sitting atop Lookout Rock, her golden curls blowing in the wind. Youthful, obviously, but definitely a well-developed young woman. An acrylic water color technique was chosen to emphasize the delicate nature of the creature and the beauty of the falls. At the same time, there is enough color and substance to indicate her strength.

The Artist's Comments: Mary Kathryn is definitely a water sprite and no other figure would have done her justice because she is -- as water sprites are -- playful, often mischievous and very beautiful. While water sprites are expected to be nude, Mary Kathryn's nudity is also a nostalgic look back to the time when the children of the family went skinny dipping at the falls and, at risk of being strangled by Mary Kathryn and my mother, that still sometimes happens! A beautiful, spirited young woman, Mary Kathryn is sometimes known as Wild Woman and even that element can be seen in this water sprite who is certainly not one of those Victorian "fairies". This is a full-blooded, full-spirited water sprite. To my eye, she is completely at home at the falls.
 

         "Luke, I want to buy that piece on an installment plan!" Michael said as the rest of the family saw it for the first time. "I figure at a dollar a week, my great-great grandson will finally get you paid!"
        "I hope you four don't think we haven't known that skinny dipping is still often the order of the day," Yong Jin said. "Luke, it's a magnificent work and really captures Mary Kathryn's spirit and beauty."

Runner, A Self Portrait -- Luke Hans Larsen: The artist is portrayed as a runner running down a country road, approaching a huge old oak on the side of the road. The technique used is essentially that of poster art, but with greater detail in the setting, especially in the large oak tree. The runner is running "flat out" and can almost be heard shouting as he runs.

The Artist's Comments: I have always been reluctant to do a self-portrait. Somehow or other it has always seemed egotistical to me. When I realized that the series would be incomplete without one, I first decided to use the caricature Millie Willingham -- who dares defy Millie? -- demanded for the posters announcing the event, but I realized it was not in keeping with the series. After working very late one night, I was reluctant to get up and get dressed for the daily run the kids in the family do together. However, when I got up and got moving, I realized that the morning run was one of the things which bonded the Gang of Four -- the name the four kids have given themselves -- together. And, more than that, I realized on that morning I was alive. In that moment of realization I was, in the words of C. S. Lewis, "surprised by joy". When I again approached the task of painting myself, I wanted to capture both the runner and the joy I felt. A part of that joy came not only from just being alive, but also from where I was. For The Family, the old oak shown in the background is a kind of symbol of our having taken root and growing in the beautiful area of the county where we live.

        "Luke, do you know the Navajo run to greet the rising sun, shouting because they are alive?" Greywolf asked. "In fact, on one of their days of celebration, men run twenty or so miles shouting all the way because they are alive and are blessed. You are so alive in that painting and, Luke, you have the depth and strength of that oak. Never forget that. It will serve you well if you ever begin to question yourself, I mean your strength and depth of spirit and character."
        "Yonghon Tongmu, I'll promise to play More for you tonight in exchange for that picture of the man who makes that song mean so much to me," Matt said.
        I planned to give Matt the painting if he wanted it, but I couldn't miss this. "I'm sure you wouldn't dare add something to your program at this late date but, Sarang Hanun Pomul, it's a deal!" I laughed, knowing that the program for tonight was fixed in concrete. Nonetheless, I couldn't resist kissing the one who inspires me to sing More.

Lakota Medicine Man with St. Michael -- Patanka St. Michael Greywolf: Greywolf is the head of the Greywolf family and, while it is never discussed or even mentioned, head of The Family as well. Here he is seen as a Lakota medicine man, illustrative of his Lakota background, dressed in a buffalo robe complete with a buffalo head. His well-known long hair is shown hanging free and his face is painted in a traditional pattern of red, black and white. He carries an eagle's claw in his right hand and burning sweet grass in his left. He has several eagle feathers in his hair and wears a choker of bone and pipestone. His chest is covered with a breastplate of bone. The technique for this part of the painting is similar to an oil painting which allows for showing great detail. Standing behind Greywolf is St. Michael -- done with a much lighter touch, but with great detail as well. St. Michael holds a shield to protect, not himself, but faint figures seen in the background, and he stands with sword raised.

The Artist's Comments: There was never any question of how Greywolf would show up in this exhibition. His name made it very clear. Raised by his Lakota grandfather until the grandfather's death, Greywolf was taken in by an uncle who abused him horribly. Eventually he was rescued by an Episcopal priest. After it became clear he needed healing from the abuse of his childhood, the priest took him to a Lakota medicine man. Near the end of his stay with the medicine man, he went on a vision quest during which he was given his Lakota name Patanka. While the word means buffalo, it means much more to the Lakota. Patanka, for a Lakota, holds the fullness of one who protects the weak and provides for all. When he returned to the priest, he sought baptism and was given a Christian name which resonates with his Lakota one -- St. Michael, defender of the weak and struggling. No greater honor can be bestowed on a Lakota than being given an eagle feather -- this is the reason Greywolf is shown with several in his hair. Should anyone doubt that Greywolf is well named, they need only ask someone who was present when the former principal of Independence High School made derogatory statements about a young man before the entire student body!

To the best of my ability, the symbols and clothing of Greywolf as a medicine man are correct. I knew what he was to be in this series of paintings, but assuring the accuracy of the representation required considerable research. I hope I did it well.

          There were no comments on Greywolf's picture for the longest time. Then Greywolf said, "Luke, you must have done some serious research because there couldn't be a better representation of a medicine man. I must say, though, I'm afraid you have given me more power than I have, but I think Matt has inherited the spirit of a medicine man..." He was silent for a moment, then said quietly, "One of my greatest wishes is that you and Matt will have an opportunity to meet a real one. They have powers -- great powers -- which I don't understand, but don't need to. The power is just in them."
 

Korean Mother -- Yong Jin Greywolf: Yong Jin is Korean. She is shown here in a hanbok, the national dress of Korea. Each stage in a woman's life dictates the color and trim of the hanbok. Yong Jin is shown as a Korean mother. Her hanbok is a deep, rich blue with white bands embroidered in purple at the end of the sleeves and around the neck, announcing she is the mother of a son. Her hair style is that of a married woman. Her dress and hair style both show she is yongban, a member of the Korean aristocracy.

The Artist's Comments: Because Yong Jin is obviously a lady, I chose to show her as yongban, a member of the Korean aristocracy, regardless of whether or not her Korean bloodline supports that position. She is dressed as the mother of a son -- again, not only because she is, but also because it characterizes her. She is the mother of a son for whom she sacrifices, but also for whom she has high expectations and on whom she places high demands -- gently, but firmly. But Yong Jin is not just the mother to Matthew, she is also a demanding mother to the other sons and daughter of The Family, never expecting or accepting less than the best any of them has to offer in any of their life's endeavors. As a teacher, she expects and demands the same of her students. She is shown laughing because, as she once said, Koreans are the Italians of Asia and her frequent laugh, sense of humor and enjoyment of conversation support the claim.

Originally I planned to show her standing before Namsan, the sacred mountain in Seoul, done in an ink and brush style. While that style is seen often in Korea, I changed my mind after seeing a picture of Kunjongjon, part of the Kyongbokkung palace complex. The use of the Korean decorative coloring, Tanchong, used on the building is especially beautiful to me. The seemingly simple yet complex patterns are painted in vivid colors of red, orange, blue, yellow and green, plus others based on iron compounds. The very brilliant colors and seemingly simple yet complex patterns were Yong Jin for me. Thus, she is shown before the Throne Room of Kyongbokkung which is decorated with Tanchong.

        "Obviously, more research, Luke. And I am glad you placed me before Kunjongjon. It means so much to anyone who loves Korea. One day the whole complex may, once again, be freed from the Japanese building erected to stop the flow of chi and, maybe then, Korea will be whole again. And I appreciate your ignoring my "tainted" bloodline. I am proud of it even though it makes me a mongrel to most Koreans.
 
 

Shaman -- Matthew Sarang Hanun Pomul Greywolf: This portrait of Matt was an extremely simple one to conceive, but very difficult to execute. The painting reflects Matthew's Lakota and Korean spirituality in that it is of a divided shaman, one side a Korean shaman and the other a Lakota medicine man. Unlike the painting of Greywolf as a medicine man, which is done in great detail using color, this one is done entirely in black and white, appearing as a pen and ink drawing. Except for the face, the work is almost an abstract. The two sides blend together in the face so Matthew is clearly visible, but the balance of the painting is vague and unclear because Matthew's vocation as a shaman is -- to me and, I suspect to him -- vague and unclear.The Artist's Comments: There has never been any doubt in my mind that Matthew Greywolf can perform magic since the first time I heard him play the organ. And as the years passed, I sensed a great depth of spirituality in Matt. Once, when he told his mother he could sense a presence before a person came into the room, she told him he was from a family in which, for five hundred years at least, there had been shaman -- odd in Korea where most shaman are women. Later, when Greywolf spoke of a Lakota medicine man -- another version of the shaman -- I sensed a resonance within Matthew with that tradition. As soon as I thought about doing The Family, I realized Matthew would have to be presented as a dual shaman.

        "As I said," Greywolf commented when he saw the painting of Matt, "I think Matt has inherited some, if not all, of the power of a medicine man."
        "He definitely inherited power from his Korean shaman ancestors," Yong Jin said confidently. "More than that, I am convinced he has also empowered the Gang of Four. That explains how all four knew about their conception."
        "Well, I can't come up with a better explanation," Jens said.
        "I was sure when Luke told me he knew when Matt was approaching. Now with Michael's positive statement that Margaret is carrying twin girls..." Yong Jin mused.
        "She certainly is," Michael was quick to state.
        "I guess this is as good a time as any to make the announcement," Margaret laughed. "I found out yesterday that he is at least half right. I am carrying twins."
        "Twins and specifically Kathryn Elizabeth and Mary Margaret to be specific," Michael said in a definite no-questions-allowed voice.

An American Pioneer -- David Andrews: David Andrews is of Scottish-Irish ancestry which goes back to before the founding of this nation. The fiercely independent people from which David sprang settled in the mountains of Appalachia and eventually some members pushed westward. The painting is done in the style of Norman Rockwell, to many THE painter of American life and ideals. Long dismissed as "just a commercial artist", Mr. Rockwell's work has recently won wide acceptance and acclaim in the art world with exhibitions in major American cities. David is dressed in buckskins and is wearing a coonskin cap headgear like that made famous years ago by the movie "Davy Crockett". He is leaning on a Kentucky long rifle, peering off into the distance as though listening for danger or hearing a call to adventure.

The Artist's Comments: This is the only work in my exhibition which consciously seeks to imitate another's work and style, but when I decided David had to be portrayed as an early American pioneer, Norman Rockwell immediately came to mind. While Mr. Rockwell worked in oils, this -- as most of my painting -- is done in acrylics, but using the techniques I would have used had I been working in oils. I chose to present David as a pioneer, not only because of his background but also because, as a male nurse, he pioneered in that field. Further, David was a pioneer in getting the first serious EMS team and equipment for Concord and the surrounding areas.

        "Luke, I see you don't miss a trick do you?" My granddad would have been proud of that painting and the fact that you chose the pioneer image. He never grew tired of telling me stories of those folks who struggled, demanding freedom in -- and a living from -- these mountains. Thanks," David said.
  

Guardian Spirit -- Elizabeth Andrews: The painting of Elizabeth is the only painting in the series which has a different background. Here, instead of the grayed off-white, it is a blue so pale it may appear at first as white. The figure is almost invisible, having been done in a blue only ever-so-slightly darker than the background. The figure is of Elizabeth Andrews as she appeared in her most robust youth. She is seen standing on Lookout Rock at the river falls, looking down on four figures playing on the beach -- The Family's four children at six or seven years of age. Careful examination will reveal that Elizabeth is smiling, happy, observing the children at play.

The Artist's Comments: How does one paint a spirit? How can someone who is no longer alive be portrayed as a presence as real as a living person? This was the problem presented to me when I approached a painting of Elizabeth Andrews. After years of happiness with little heartache or pain, it almost seemed The Family was required to pay back bills when Elizabeth discovered she had cancer. Her struggle was brave, but the disease wrapped her in pain and took her from us -- first because of her disease and pain and then, finally, when her death released her from her suffering. Yet, to a person, we know Elizabeth is still a part of us, loving and watching over us. As I thought about how to go about the task, I recalled many happy moments with Elizabeth, but kept coming back to the idea that she was watching over us. It was this which reminded me of the times she stood on Lookout Rock at the top of the falls, watching over the four children playing below. That was Elizabeth. In deciding to convey the idea of her as guardian spirit, I saw her -- faintly -- in that place watching over us in happy days. To achieve a distinction from the living family, I decided to change the background color of this canvas and to use the slightest possible difference in color between the background and the figures. It was only when I had finished the painting and was examining it that I noticed Elizabeth was smiling.

 
      "Luke, I'm really glad you included Mom. I wouldn't have thought of your doing so, but I should have known you would," Michael whispered with tears in his eyes. "I know she watches over me. Most of the time I don't think about her as much as I did, but I do miss her terribly at times."
        "And you should," Margaret said as she placed her arms around Michael's shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen her really seem like a mother to him. He buried his face in her shoulder and had a good cry as David embraced the two of them.

Greek Warrior -- Michael Andrews: Michael is a handsome young man in every sense of the word and he is a warrior for justice and right. This painting joins the two. On the usual grayed off-white background is seen a Greek style vase in black with white decorations, Michael as a Greek warrior, spear raised, fighting off a snarling dog -- the dog of prejudice and injustice.

The Artist's Comments: As a part of the application for a summer art camp I attended two years ago, applicants had to submit a "study of the human body". When the campers arrived, I was somewhat chagrined to discover I was the only one who had done a nude! Others had drawings or paintings of hands, faces, sketches of other parts of the body and only one other had a full figure and it was a pencil drawing of a draped woman. I had done a nude of Michael in charcoal and pastels. I recalled that work and decided that, in order to show both Michael's physical beauty and his passion for justice, there was only one possible answer: the painting you see -- Michael as a Greek warrior. Preliminary sketches I did were not satisfactory for my concept but, as I was trying to decide on what approach to use, my sister asked me a question about "The Odyssey" which she was reading for an English class. When she showed me the passage, I noticed a small illustration of a Greek vase on the page. The idea of a Greek vase painting came to me and, at first, I dismissed it as pretty far out. However, as I started sketching, I came to see the possibilities. When the painting was finished, I found it struck the very note for me that Michael in his youthful eagerness for right does in reality.

        "There's a real man and he's mine, all mine," Mary Kathryn said as she made a great pointing gesture toward the painting and pulled Michael's lips to hers for a mouth-filling tongue kiss.

 

Mother Watching Over a Sick Child -- Margaret Bailey Andrews: The painting of Margaret was done as a period piece. The scene is a bed in a log cabin with a child lying, back to the viewer, half-covered, and a woman, Margaret, sitting beside the bed. She is seen in profile by the dim light from a fireplace and the candle sitting on a table beside the bed. The fire and candle cast a glow over her face and the bare back of the child. While the child is obviously a nearly grown young man, she sees him as a child. What can be seen of her face expresses both her deep concern and her boundless hope as she watches into the night. The colors used are muted earth tones illuminated by the warm glow of fire and candlelight.

The Artist's Comments: The world knows Margaret Bailey Andrews as a doctor, and that she is. However, The Family came to know her in more than a professional role when she was called upon to help save the life of one of the family's children, me, who lay near death. While the child in the painting is obviously a young man, the concern shown by Margaret is that of a mother watching over her child. I chose the setting to reflect Margaret's own heritage as a child of mountain pioneers -- as is her husband David -- and the courage of those women who left the comforts of the "civilized" part of colonial America to follow their husbands and families into the wilderness. The darkness surrounding the two is intended to indicate the seriousness of the situation, but the glow of fire and candle suggests hope and happier days ahead.

        Millie, who had been standing behind The Family, said, "Beautifully done, Luke. Beautifully done. And for those of us who know you, there is no doubt who the young man is. Margaret, you did the world a great service when you kept this young fellow alive."
        "I was only a part of what kept him alive, a very small part. Matt has to take most of the credit. He may not be a medicine man or a shaman, but no one will ever convince me otherwise," Margaret responded.

The Artist's Comments on the Series: When I first thought about painting the members of The Family, I intended to do rather traditional, almost photographic, likenesses but the more I thought about it, the more it became a spiritual journey into what The Family is and means to me. I realized, as soon as I started painting, that I had undertaken a major project -- since the entire series had to be completed in a three-month period. Often it seemed I would never complete the paintings but, when they were finished, I realized that I knew and loved The Family as I had not done before. That, alone, made the exercise worthwhile for me. I hope the results are worthwhile for the viewer.

"Luke, I don't think I have ever known a family who has been honored as much, and certainly not more, than you have honored yours in these works. Not only are the paintings and the sculpture outstanding art -- and while I'm no expert, I know they are -- but they also speak of a deep love and affection not often found among today's families, I'm afraid," Ms. Wright said.
        When we had finished with The Family, all those present read their catalogues and spent time where they wanted looking at the rest of the work in the main gallery.

  

Exercises, Techniques, and Methods: On the wall opposite The Family are displayed works by the artist produced as required exercises in art classes and art camp, experiments with techniques and tools, and application of various methods. These will be described briefly beginning near the back wall and moving clockwise.

A Vase: Done as an assignment in a pottery class, this is the only example of wheel thrown pottery found in the exhibition and the only one owned by the artist. He says, "I must have thrown a ton of clay before I achieved anything worth keeping. When I had created this pot, I was finished with trying to throw pots." The pot stands twelve inches high and is similar in shape to American Indian pots. The glaze has a white slip underglaze covered by a terra cotta color opaque final glaze which has been engraved to allow the white slip glaze to show through. The design is based on pre-Columbian Mayan patterns of circles and curves.

Michael -- A Nude Study: This charcoal and pastel study of Michael Andrews was part of the inspiration for Greek Warrior in The Family series. Michael is shown standing, arms outstretched, in the exuberance of youth. His strength and physical beauty are apparent, as is his joy at being alive. (Artist's note: This sketch is the property of Mary Kathryn Larsen and was graciously loaned by her for this exhibition.)

The River Falls at Night: Another class assignment, this time for a photography class, resulted in this picture. The assignment was to capture a night scene. The artist chose not to do an obvious one -- a brightly lighted scene -- but to attempt to capture a special place, the river falls. The final print was the result of several night's experimentation and at least half a dozen rolls of film. The length of the exposure is evident from the track left by the rising moon above the lip of the falls.

Lifeline -- A Montage: "Using anything you like, create a montage of your life. You may use photos, magazine pictures, objects. The only two rules are you may not leave any of the background showing and you may not use words except those found on objects or pictures." This was a semester-long class project in my junior year. The result was much larger and more complicated than I anticipated but, when I started gathering materials for it, I found so many things I wanted to include: one of my first baby shoes, my first book which bears teeth marks proving I attempted to read it with my mouth, school pictures from the first grade on, magazine pictures of a bicycle, a report card from sixth grade, a picture from my junior high prom, a note from Greywolf to my dad telling him Matt and I had been showing off in Matt's new Jeep and he was grounding us for six weeks, a number of matchbox cars from a collection I started in grade school and continue to the present, and many other things. The actual time line follows a serpentine route over an entire sheet of plywood.

Costume Designs: These are sketches for some of the costumes designed for Independence High School's Drama Club's 1993 production of Macbeth. Shown are the battle costumes of Macbeth and Macduff, Macbeth's costume as king, the costumes of the three witches, Lady Macbeth's costume -- worn at the beginning of the play, and her sleep walking costume.

The Artist's Comments: Asked to design the costumes for Macbeth, I really didn't know where to begin. In the light of the fact that I was given a free hand, I looked into how the play had been costumed in recent productions, some using modern dress. I quickly decided to go with the time of the setting and started research into the dress of the period. The acrylic watercolor sketches are the result. The major characters' costumes are pretty much what one would expect, but the witches offered an opportunity to experiment. One is dressed in a filmy grey and black costume which looks much like rags. Another is dressed in a distorted version of court dress with the expected bright colors and careful fit changed to muddy browns and yellows and the fit made loose and askew. The third witch is dressed as a temptress in a clinging gown of translucent green. All characters are shown on the set which was also my design.

Life, Death and Transformation: This is a highly abstract oil, one of the few in the exhibition, which uses color to signify the three stages in this spirit journey. Moving from left to right and bottom to top, life is symbolized by green, death by black and transformation by yellow. The paint has been applied to the canvas with a palette knife in geometric shapes and swirls. Each stage blends into the next, moving from the rich green in the lower left corner to the almost-white yellow in the upper right corner.

The Artist's Comments: Having gone through a near-death experience and a transformation, I sought to convey something of that experience through painting. Clearly, I came to understand, it was possible only through a metaphor, an abstract, in which colors represented the journey I had taken. I chose green, the color of life, to represent my life before the experience. It is the color of spring, of growth, of life itself since we are utterly dependent upon the green of plants for our life. The paint has been applied to the canvas with much texture as life is many textured. When I first conceived of the painting, I thought of using black for death, but recalled the actual experience where death appeared as darkness, but not simply black -- it was a smoky darkness. The paint has been applied to the canvas in great swirls as if drifting smoke. This is most noticeable when the color gradually lightens to a dark gray. As with death, my initial choice of color for the transformed life was different from the final choice. Initially I had chosen red, the color of blood. However, as I thought further, the proper color was yellow, the color of light. Accordingly, the transformation aspect of the painting ranges from a gray, smoky yellow where it mingles with death to the very bright and light yellow of the full transformation. Here the paint has been applied in a manner that suggests rays of light.

The Fellowship of the Rings: A pen and ink drawing of the right hands of an Independence High School group dedicated to elimination of prejudice and discrimination. All ten selected Hopi overlay rings as a symbol of their fellowship. The rings are shown on the hands which form a circle, a fellowship circle.

The Artist's Comments: Originally calling themselves by the somewhat arrogant name "The Select Few", Michael Andrews, Mary Kathryn Larsen -- sophomores, Linda Randolph -- a junior, and Matthew Greywolf, Paula Wright, Larry Watley, Eugene Willingham and myself -- seniors -- were a group of high school friends. Contrary to custom, Michael was persuaded to run for student body president, usually seen as a junior privilege. During the campaign, Bill Lance joined the group after Michael's campaign posters were vandalized. Two of the group had purchased Hopi overlay rings which were admired by the others and all decided to select and wear Hopi overlay rings from the collection of Mr. Swartz of Swartz's Jewelry Shop. Bill Lance, very angry over the vandalizing of Michael's posters, announced he was withdrawing from the campaign in support of Michael Andrews. When he made the announcement on the school TV, Bill displayed his ring and announced that he was a member of "The Fellowship of the Rings" and the name stuck. Not a part of the original "Fellowship of the Rings", Jacob McAllister joined the group after the election. The pen and ink drawing was done from many sketches made during lunch which the group eats together.

Mentors -- Michael Sanders and John Stephenson: A pencil drawing of Michael Sanders and John Stephenson shows the two men working while setting up this exhibition.

The Artist's Comments: This is my latest work. Mr. Stephenson has been my art teacher since junior high school. Uncle Michael has been an art dealer in Charleston for many years and is a graduate of the Chicago Art Institute. When he came to live in Concord, he offered to help mount this exhibition. During breaks, I sketched the two men and then, from memory and the sketches, did this pencil drawing of the two at work -- my two mentors.

Prom Queen -- Paula Wright: This full-length portrait is of Independence High School's 1995 Prom Queen, Paula Wright. The figure is done using acrylics as one would oils. The figure stands alone on the canvas before a background of white with the faintest tinge of green. She is dressed in a red Korean hanbok with accessories and hair style which might be seen on a young Korean bride.

The Artist's Comments: Paula did me the honor of being my prom date for this year's prom. Her dress was kept secret until I arrived to pick her up. Yong Jin Greywolf and my sister Mary Kathryn had decided she had the coloring and poise to be beautiful in Mrs. Greywolf's hanbok. Needless to say, they were correct. After this exhibition, this portrait is a gift to Paula's mother, Ms. Sandra Wright.

        Mom and Yong Jin got a great kick out of playing "do you remember" as they looked at the montage. Ms. Wright exclaimed over the painting of Paula and actually squealed when she read that it was to be hers. When she did, she ran over and hugged me and gave me a huge kiss. "Just wish you were available," she laughed. "If Paula didn't grab you, I think I would try to interest you in an older woman!" Having been around Matt too long, I blushed.
        Uncle Michael and Mr. Stephenson forgot where they were, I guess, as they stood before the drawing of the two of them. They were holding hands like two teenagers. "Your first sale, Luke," Uncle Michael said. "I'm offering $1,500 for the drawing and if someone else wants it, I'll pay $100 more than their highest offer. That is mine and John's for the house. And I want Life, Death and Transformation. I think there will be several offers for it, so we'll wait about setting a price, but I want it."
        "Uncle Michael, I feel I should give the oil to you for all you have done. And I am definitely giving you and Mr. Stephenson the drawing. It's your housewarming present. I would be honored to have you accept it."
    "Luke, we would be pleased and honored to accept, wouldn't we, John?"
    "Indeed we would."

The Second Gallery

The Second Gallery is located across the hall to the left.

Retrospective: This gallery contains examples from throughout the artist's life and needs no explanation.

The Artist's Comments: A retrospective? A not-quite-eighteen-year-old with a retrospective? That was a question I asked when it was suggested by my mentors. Both reminded me that a retrospective traces the development of an artist, regardless of age. Accordingly, Uncle Michael and Mr. Stephenson asked my parents and members of my extended family for anything they might have for this exhibit. The two men made the selection and mounted this display. In the retrospective, you will see a crayon "drawing" made before I started going to school, a Thanksgiving turkey made from a hand print in kindergarten and other things I drew, made and painted since I was three or so until the present. It is a kind of "empty the attic" exhibition which I hope you enjoy.

        I knew the general public would not get the kick out of the retrospective members of The Family did. They were all soon busy playing, "Do You Remember When?"
        "There's Luke's masks of the three other kids," Mom said. "Remember when he did those? The first time he was doing Michael, he forgot to oil his face well and we had to chip off the plaster. Michael was doing his best to scream and yell, but his face was all sealed behind plaster!"   
        "There's his first oil. He painted that in Matt's room -- I can't remember why" Mom said.
        "I do. I had told him if he did it in his room I'd bust a bottom," Jens laughed. "And with good reason."
        "I learned that when I went up after it was finished and Greywolf and I had to get paint remover to clean up the floor. But the painting of the barn is good. It never looked like a child's work," Yong Jin said. "And how old was he? Eight or nine as I recall," Yong Jin said, still looking at the picture of our red barn.
        Other such comments continued as the retrospective took on the appearance of a retrospective of the life of The Family.

The Third Gallery

The Third Gallery is located across the hall to the right and contains what must be termed commercial art.
 
 

Posters:

Macbeth: This poster for Independence High School's 1993 production of Macbeth shows Macbeth and Macduff meeting with the three witches on the heath. The figures are done very realistically and the lettering is of the period.

A Midsummer's Night's Dream: Done in watercolor, the poster for Independence High School's 1994 production of "A Midsummer's Night's Dream" captures the fairytale-like nature of the play. The characters are shown in the famous forest practice scene with Bottom in the donkey's head.

Campaign Poster: Michael Andrew's campaign for student body president at Independence came at the insistence of a group of friends following his bold stand against prejudice. Michael was the first student to challenge the principal's derogatory remarks concerning a former student and spearheaded a service of repentance and memorial for that student, Gregory Burnette who, because of prejudice, took his own life. The poster shows Michael jumping hurdles -- he is on the track team -- and his slogan: "No hurdle too high for Independence with Michael running!"

Concert and Exhibition Posters: These have been seen all over town. Done in blues, they are caricatures of the three leaders of the concert/recital and of myself: Paula Wright, Eugene Willingham, Matthew Greywolf and Luke Larsen. The lettering was chosen from a serif font discovered in a book of 18th-century font designs.

The Recital/Concert Program Cover: The decision to use lettering as decoration resulted in this cover. The background is a rich ivory and the lettering is done in an iron oxide brown. The very fancy cursive font was found in the same book as that used for the posters.

The Exhibition Catalog: The cover for the exhibition should have shown one of the major pieces from the exhibition. This posed two interesting problems. Two of the pieces which might have been on the cover were to be kept secret until the opening of the exhibition. The Family, which might have been used otherwise, did not lend itself to photography. The final decision was to utilize the caricature of the artist already used for the poster announcing the combined concert and exhibition.
 
 

The remainder of this collection are caricatures done in pastels and charcoal.

Millie Willingham, shown in her full glory with her J. D. and branch in hand. (Author's note: For all of you who do not know, J. D. is Jack Daniels, a Tennessee sour mash whiskey -- and if you're old enough or a real rock and roll fan, Janice Joplin's drink -- and branch -- as in branch or creek -- is the southern expression for water added to sour mash whiskey.)

Fr. Thomas of St. Mary's, shown in full vestments, but racing to the front of the church for service, late as usual.

Gladys and Chelsea of ICU, shown dressing down an unknown doctor.

Mr. Ron Mitchell, shown explaining a calculus problem to a group of bewildered students.

Bill Lance, ladies man and jock, evidenced by the lipstick on his face and his basketball uniform.

Ms. Jones, shown in her principal's office, laughing at some student prank.

Linda Lipinsky, shown in full battle array ready to do battle with any male who does her wrong.

Jacob McAllister, shown extending his hand to Michael Andrews after the student body election.

Herr Dietrich, shown examining the clay models for The Family bronzes.

Mr. Tom Washington, shown looking over a bronze casting.

        Again, those looking at the pictures revealed their own interests as they looked and chatted among themselves. "Luke, I'm pleased you chose to put my drink in a Jack Daniels' glass. Don't own one, but would hate to think someone might get the idea I drink Kentucky bourbon," Millie laughed merrily.
        "Luke, I almost stole that caricature of myself before my mom saw it, but I guess she's seen worse. At least the lipstick is on my face!" Bill grinned.
        "Luke, are Mr. Washington and Herr Dietrich coming to the exhibition?" David asked. "It would be a pity if they didn't."
        "Mr. Washington called earlier in the week to say Herr Dietrich was ill and he didn't know whether they would make it or not. He called again and said when he told Herr Dietrich he thought he was too ill for the trip it was like magic medicine. He was up and around the next day. They drove over yesterday and spent the night so Herr Dietrich wouldn't become overly tired and they will be spending tonight here as well. I tried to get them to stay with us, but Mr. Washington felt that a hotel would be best. But they will be here."
        "Even if you couldn't see his face, everyone who knows him would know you captured Fr. Tom," Linda said. "It's the 10:59:59 sprint to the back of the church for the 11:00 service, sure enough."
        "How many times have I seen that look on Ron Mitchell's face," Greywolf laughed. "Calculus is so simple to him he just can't understand how students don't get it."
        "I appreciate the scene you chose to put me in," Jacob said. "I really learned a lot from the election. Frankly, I think it is my finest moment to date -- I mean acknowledging that the better person won. And it was the beginning of friendships I will remember always."
        Linda just looked at her caricature and said, "What can I say? It's me all right."
        And so the conversations went.
        After everyone had seen all they wanted to see, I said, "Ok, if you will all gather in gallery four, there is another unveiling."

The Fourth Gallery

The Fourth Gallery is located directly across the hall from the Common Room.

        When everyone was present, I lifted the veil from the one piece which was absolutely not for sale -- ever. There had been silence when Surrounded by So Great a Cloud was unveiled; now there was the sound of sudden intakes of breath when I unveiled the only work in the fourth gallery.
 

The Fourth Gallery contains a single painting Matthew Sarang Hanun Pomul Greywolf: The medium is acrylic, but the technique is one used with oils. Done in great detail, the painting is a full length, life-sized portrait of Matthew Sarang Hanun Pomul Greywolf. He is dressed as a Lakota warrior in moccasins and a breech cloth of white buckskin which emphasizes his darkness. Aside from these, he wears nothing except a headband, choker, and arm bands of red and black bead work -- the colors of a warrior. Shown in profile, his face is also painted in a red and black pattern suitable for a warrior. In his hair, which is loose and streaming in the wind behind him, are two eagle feathers -- a mark of honor, and especially so for this young warrior. Clearly visible on his cheek is a scar received in his battle to save a life while risking his own -- the mark of a true warrior. He is looking into the distance, seeing what others may never see.

The Artist's Comments: Once, while walking with Matt across the meadow from the falls on the Sequoyah River, a stiff breeze came up and caught Matt's unbound hair, causing it to stream out behind him. In a flash, I saw him as a true Lakota warrior. The sun highlighted the scar he had received when he gave no thought to himself in order to save my life. I knew I wanted to capture that picture and struggled off and on for several weeks trying to do so. I did sketch after sketch without success. Then, one night after I had been working for some time, the portrait you see suddenly flashed in my mind. I grabbed my brushes and started painting furiously before the mental image disappeared. I painted until sunrise, working without stopping. I painted until I had captured the spirit of Matt. When I laid down my brushes, the picture was complete as you see it. Not another brush stroke was added.

        After the initial intake of breath, silence descended upon the gallery. People moved, as little as possible, to allow everyone to get a good view of the painting. I was afraid to look up and see what was going on. Finally, when I did, I saw tears streaming down Matt's face. Greywolf had become a Lakota chief, standing proud, looking first at the painting, then at his son, then back at the painting. Yong Jin was teary eyed as was Gabrielle. Dad stood, looking like Beowulf, acknowledging another great warrior. The silence was finally broken by Millie who whispered softly, "Greater love hath no man..." Matt moved across the room quietly and stood before me, looking at the painting as he reached behind himself and took my hands. The silence descended again after Millie's statement and lasted for at least five minutes -- it seemed a year -- then everyone started talking at once, all wanting to tell me how great the painting was. Matt knew how to let me know and, in front of everyone, took me into his arms and gave me a deep, passionate Matthew Sarang Hanun Pomul Greywolf kiss.
        "Beautiful job, Son," Dad said. "I am proud of you beyond measure. Matt, you have a fantastic mate. Love him for your lifetime." I could hardly believe my ears.
        Almost everyone wanted to look at something a second or third time so it was almost 1:00 when Uncle Michael closed and locked the doors. "Everyone is invited to my place -- I guess I need to say our place, mine and John's -- for lunch." And that was how the newest couple was introduced to the family.

I certainly hope that each of you were able to imagine the works in this exhibition. In writing this section I have discovered that even though I can't draw worth diddly, describing a work of art is a poor way to display it. Maybe one day someone will become Luke Larsen long enough to do a painting. Who knows?

Remember, you write, then I write. Sequoyah

Part Thirty-six

Matt

        After the excitement of Sunday and the terrific love-making of Sunday night, I expected to find it hard to wake up Monday morning. I didn't because I was awakened when I felt Luke's lips against mine and his whisper, "Dark Angel, I love you more every day I live". I returned his kiss passionately and whispered back, "Bright Angel, you are the reason I live every day!" Reluctantly, we got out of bed and crossed the hall to brush our teeth and take a piss--not in that order--before we pulled on sweats for the morning run. We climbed down the trellis and found Michael and Mary Kathryn waiting for us. "Luke, Matt, we need to talk as well as run this morning. I mean serious talk."
        "Ok, we'll run and jog back so we can talk," Luke responded. "Now let's run. I feel so alive!" We started running and Luke started shouting, greeting the morning, and the three of us joined him. After we had run about three miles, Luke said, "Ok, let's jog and talk".
        "Luke, Michael and I had a long talk last night about you and Matt. I think anyone looking at your painting of Matt and how it was displayed would realize that it was more than a painting done of a brother by a brother. Matt, most of the kids who saw you kiss Luke accepted--at least tolerated--what was clearly not an expression of brotherly love. To be honest, you two outted yourselves yesterday almost as clearly as if you had made an announcement. As I said, most kids I heard mention it were at least tolerant, but I know some are not," Mary Kathryn said. "And we all know the least tolerant ones weren't there yesterday. Today with this all-school field trip the good, the bad and the impossible will know all about it. I'm sure the kiss will be the topic of the morning gossip. Then, when they see the exhibition, they will see the painting."
        "Since we are going directly to St. Mary's, you won't have to worry about the reaction when you get to school, but before the day is over, everyone in school will be talking--one way or the other. I don't know what the reaction will be. I know that Independence has made a lot of progress in the past few weeks, but a lifetime of homophobia doesn't get washed away in days. Be warned and be careful," Michael added.
        "I hadn't given thought to that," I admitted. "I guess we should have."
        "Matt, what's done is done and if we outted ourselves, I guess we wanted to, whether we were conscious of it or not. We have said before that our love will sustain us through anything. I hope we are right because I think we are facing a real test of our love here. And I hope that you two have overstated the case. If not, we'll just have to deal with it."
        "Remember, we are here for you," Michael said as he kissed Mary Kathryn and turned to go up his walk.
        We all fell silent, lost in our own thoughts as we jogged the rest of the way. When we reached my place, Luke kissed me and said, "Matt, I think we might have breakfast with our families this morning". I agreed and watched as he and Mary Kathryn jogged home.
        When I had showered and dressed, I went downstairs to find Mom and Dad waiting breakfast for me. "Matt," Dad said,"You don't know how proud you have made your mom and me. Your recital was splendid and the original compositions were outstanding. Your acceptance to Oberlin not only means a great deal to you and Luke, but also to us since it is a recognition of your talent and hard work. We're having dinner here tonight so we can all boast and celebrate." Then there was a long pause. "But there is something else." Another long pause. "Now please don't take what we have to say as criticism."
        "Yes, please don't," Mom added.
        "You know that we accept and love you dearly and that we are happy that you have the love of Luke. Regardless of what we might have preferred, we are overjoyed that you have found the happiness you have with the man you love so deeply. However..."
        I braced myself for... I didn't know what.
        "However, I hope you realize that this weekend has changed things dramatically. Luke's painting of you, especially displayed as it is, caught the attention of a number of people. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that it was not just a painting, but the painting of someone loved deeply and, to be blunt, not as a brother. Then your 'Fantasia' could hardly have made your feeling for Luke clearer if you had called it 'Luke Larsen'. Again, don't get me wrong. I am not condemning or even questioning what the two of you did. Both works were statements of great love and I can find no fault with that. Also, I understand that when Luke came downstairs to congratulate you, you kissed him in a most unbrotherly fashion..." Dad paused.
        I blushed then hung my head. "It's true, Dad, Mom. I couldn't contain myself I was so happy and excited. And, yes, I gave him a full, tongue-in-the-mouth kiss. I'm sorry."
        "Are you?" Mom asked. "I really doubt that, Matt. And I don't expect you to be."
        "You're right, Mom, I'm not sorry. I am sorry and maybe worried about what that impulsive action may bring about. Michael and Mary Kathryn talked to us about it this morning."
        "Well, I think it is safe to say you two are about as out as you will ever be. Maybe that is best, I don't know. But I do know you are probably facing some rough times ahead. Your mom and I wanted to be sure you realized what had happened and to know that we are here to offer any support we can. And to make sure you understand were we stand, I want to say again, your mom and I are very, very proud of you and Luke. And we are also pleased you have found so great a love. We do know that great loves can withstand a lot, right, Yong Jin?"
        "Very right, Greywolf," Mom replied as she crossed the kitchen and kissed my dad then the two of them embraced me.
        After breakfast, I went to pick up Luke. As he got in the Jeep--since Michael wasn't going to the actual school building, he decided the rules against sophomores having cars didn't apply and he picked up Mary Kathryn--he said his family had a discussion and as he talked about it, I told him it was the same discussion I had with Mom and Dad. Nothing more was said about how we had--unconsciously--outted ourselves.
        "Matt, are you excited about today?" Luke asked as we approached St. Mary's.
        "I didn't think I would be. I thought by today the performance would be old hat, but I'm getting butterflies just as I did Saturday and Sunday."
        "So am I."
        When we reached St. Mary's, all the crew was already there. The ensemble and chorus were in the church, warming up, and the docents were waiting to begin. Soon the buses pulled in with the juniors and seniors for the exhibition. Luke had walked into the back hall where I was vesting a short time before and, just before I was ready to go to the organ, took me into his arms for a magnificent Luke kiss. I didn't want to let him go. My mouth and then my whole being was filled with the taste of Luke. When we finally broke our kiss, I thought I saw a shadow at the other end of the hall, but decided this morning's talk had gotten to me more than I thought.
        Leaving Luke, I went to the organ prepared to start the third performance of the recital/concert. Eugene, Paula and I had decided it was very long for school kids and cut out a few things, but the basic concert and recital remained intact.

Luke

        As soon as I had given Matt a good luck kiss, I went back to the exhibition. Perhaps I was being overly sensitive, but I thought the crew were being especially attentive when I arrived. "Luke, Ms. Jones suddenly realized that two classes are too much to try to see the exhibition at the same time so she has decided the juniors will go first and then seniors. If you'll look out in the church playground you'll see just how mature the seniors are." I walked over to the window and saw seniors in high school being kids again--sliding, swinging and playing like little kids.
        It seemed the juniors were either totally disinterested or full of questions. It took a while to get them all through the exhibition. I hung around, answering questions when asked, but mostly just observing. I was especially observant when a group went into the gallery with Matt's picture. There were a lot of questions, but nothing to indicate that anyone saw the painting as anything more than a painting. I must confess I was relieved.
        When the juniors had finished going through the exhibition, the seniors came in--and the juniors hit the playground. The seniors were generally more interested than the juniors. Four guys--Independence's "skin heads" seemed to take special interest in the exhibition. Michael was their docent and they kept asking questions of him and me as well.
        It was nearing time for lunch when all the seniors had gone outside except the Fellowship and the junior basketball players who were laughing and talking with Bill. Jacob and Mary Kathryn were just outside the gallery door when the four with Michael entered where Matt's picture hung. As soon as they were inside, Shawn McKay whipped out a knife and lunged toward the painting of Matt shouting, "Why are we looking at a picture of a shit packing, cock-sucking faggot?" as he slashed the painting. The three with him shouted, "Cut the queer's picture again, Shawn. Get the cock sucker good." I felt as though a knife had gone through my heart. But the worse was yet to come. As Michael rushed toward him, Shawn turned, knife still in hand, and slashed Michael. As Michael fell to the floor, Mary Kathryn screamed, "Bill and you basketballs players, get in here now! Someone call 911!" Bill rushed into the room as Shawn lunged toward me. He quickly took Shawn down and wrestled the knife from him.
        Jacob and the basketball players quickly took care of the other three as Mary Kathryn and I rushed to Michael. He was covered with blood and I could see he had been cut badly. "Get Mr. Allan and Greywolf," I said as I ripped off my shirt and tried to stop the bleeding. It was soon obvious that the cut had started just below Michael's right eye, crossed his cheek, then his chest to just below his rib cage and then turned in the opposite direction, slashing open his abdomen. Mr. Allan and Greywolf came and started administering first aid as best they could. Michael was losing a tremendous amount of blood and nothing they did seemed to stop it.
        Ms. Jones appeared at the door and said, "The EMS is on the way. It's only three or four minutes to the hospital. I have also called the police. The basketball guys and Bill have the four involved well in hand. I am sending everyone else into the church." Before she had finished speaking, I heard the sirens of the EMS team.
        Unfortunately, David was on duty and came with the team. I met them at the door and said, "David, Michael's been hurt. I think you better let your team mates handle this." He, of course, ignored me and rushed into the room. Two team members were working on Michael and David, being the professional he was, joined right in, nonetheless, tears were streaming down his face.
        While the other team members worked on Michael, David got on his radio and called the hospital telling them the situation and that they needed to have a surgeon standing by ready to operate. "Michael, I am sure, has a punctured bowel and has lost and is losing a great deal of blood. Call Dr. Bailey--Dr. Andrews and tell her. We are ready to transport. We'll need someone to work on his face as well. It is cut badly. His blood type is AB positive. You'll probably have to find someone who can donate since I doubt that there is enough available."
        When the EMS team left with Michael, Ms. Jones had returned and said, "Greywolf, you are not capable of driving a bus load of kids. I have called for drivers to take everyone back to school. When we get there, I will send them home. You need to stay here. I haven't told those in the church what happened, but when I do, you and Yong Jin will need to be with Matt."
        "We'll need to be with the whole Fellowship," Greywolf replied quietly. "We will take care of them."
        I walked down the hall and walked up behind Matt who was still sitting on the organ bench. As soon as I saw him, I couldn't hold it any longer. I burst into great sobs and clung to him. "Matt, Michael has been hurt. He's been hurt really bad." I had forgotten about Mary Kathryn until she put her arms around me and started crying. I quickly told Matt what had happened.
        "Why Michael? Why Michael?" Matt kept asking. "Michael has done nothing. We are the guilty ones. Why Michael?"
        The three of us held each other as Ms. Jones walked to the front of the packed and overcrowded church.
        "Students, Independence has had another tragedy resulting from intolerance and hatred. Shawn McKay made some accusations about Matt Greywolf and then slashed a magnificent painting of him done by Luke Larsen..."
        "One queer's painting of another queer," someone shouted from among the packed students.
        There was a brief disturbance and Tanishia Berry was walking up the packed center aisle, dragging a girl by the hair of her head while twisting her arm behind her back. "Ms. Jones, you had better take this bitch before I take care of her!" she said as she shoved a girl down in front of Ms. Jones.
        "You stay right there or I'll turn my back and let Tanishia have a go at you," Ms. Jones said. "Not only did Shawn slash the painting, but he also slashed Michael Andrews' face, chest and abdomen. While there is no official word at this time, Mr. Andrews, who was with the EMS team, thought it was very serious, very serious indeed. He told me there is always hope, but that he felt Michael might well die from his wounds. Blood is critical because Michael had lost a great deal before the EMS team got here and was still losing blood when they left for the hospital with him. Michael has a rather rare blood type and there probably is not enough at the hospital. If you are eighteen and are willing to give blood, stay behind and you will be taken to the hospital so your blood can be typed and drawn. If you're not eighteen, but would like to donate, you'll have to have parental permission. You can call and have your parents meet you at the hospital. If you are not going to the hospital to give blood, will you please leave the church quietly and board the buses. You will be taken back to school and then home. And keep Michael in your thoughts." She then looked down at the girl still on the floor under Tanishia's watchful eye and said, "Your are suspended until there can be a hearing. I suggest you see if you can use the phone here and get someone to take you home. Your parents will be in my office tomorrow morning at 8:00 sharp."
        "I might have known you'd take up for faggots!" she shouted and, before Ms. Jones could stop her, Tanishia gave her a good smack to the mouth. In response the girl shouted, "Even you, you fucking nigger, you are taking up for faggots!" she shouted.
        "Forget the phone and get out of my sight!" Ms. Jones said.
        As the students started leaving the church, I noticed several were kneeling before they finally got up. About fifty students were still in the church when Ms. Jones asked, "Are you waiting to go to give blood?" All nodded. "I have a bus waiting to take you to the hospital." Soon only the Fellowship was left and Ms. Jones came back to make sure we were ok.
        We told her we would go to the hospital as well, "But first we need to get ourselves together," Matt said. "I miss Michael. This is the kind of thing he could handle." Before we left, all of us, except Paula, knelt for a time. She stood straight, her hands uplifted. As we got up she said, "Think a Jewish prayer might help as well as a Christian one and I pray standing". Mary Kathryn hugged her tightly and began to cry softly.
        The Fellowship walked back to the parish hall and, when we got there, Gertie met us. "Fr. Tom has gone to the hospital. Matt, Greywolf and Yong Jin went to tell Jens and Gabrielle. Millie is on her way over. I suggest you go into the conference room and wait for her. I put some drinks in there for you. Anything else I can do?"
        "Gertie, could you call Gladys and Chelsea? Please?" Matt asked.
        "Didn't need to. They called here. Someone from the hospital had called them about possible emergency duty. They resigned last week, you know, because the hospice is opening next week. They are coming by here to see how you all are doing."
        When Gladys and Chelsea arrived, there were hugs and introductions since they didn't really know all the Fellowship. "Hatred strikes again. When will it end?" Chelsea asked. "But right now I guess you are wondering where things stand. I know you've been through a lot and I wouldn't dare try to lie to you. Michael is in a critical condition. He has lost a tremendous amount of blood because the cuts were deep. While it is fortunate no vital organ was cut, his bowel was nicked. That means there is a grave danger of serious, and I mean very serious, infection. Mary Kathryn, I hope his beautiful face can be repaired, but it was slashed deeply. We were told a plastic surgeon was being flown in by helicopter from Lexington, but what the outcome will be is very much up in the air. Right now the important thing is to keep him alive. And I'll not try to sugar coat it--that is not going to be easy." Mary Kathryn turned snow white and collapsed.
        Chelsea and Gladys soon had her conscious again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make trouble," she said, then started crying. Then, as she had done when she was a very young child, she crawled in my lap and put her arms around my neck. I held her close.
        "Chelsea and I resigned from the hospital last week in anticipation of opening the hospice next week, but it was only a formal opening since we are not really ready for patients yet. We have told the hospital we will be doing private duty nursing pulling twelve-hour shifts to take care of Michael."
        "Then," Matt said to Mary Kathryn, "you can be sure Michael will have the best possible chance of making it. Death has to get permission before he takes someone from these two."
        Time dragged on as it does when you are waiting, not knowing what is happening. Bill, Linda and Jacob excused themselves saying they would be in the office for a short time.
        When they returned, Bill said, "We got the ball rolling for Independence to hold a vigil outside the hospital. There will be students there around the clock until Michael is out of danger. The first group is going there now. Linda, Paula, Jacob and I are going to the hospital as part of the first group holding the vigil," Bill said.
        "We'll take Mary Kathryn and stay," Gladys said "and we'll keep you posted on anything we learn. Let's go, Mary Kathryn."
        Matt and I sat silent for a few minutes then Matt got up and said, "Luke, I'm going into the church for a while before we go to the hospital". I followed him, as did Larry and Eugene. The four of us walked down the hall to the church, holding hands, saying nothing. When we reached the church, we went to the altar rail and knelt. We stayed for a good while. When we got up and walked back to the parish office, Millie was talking to Gertie. Both were crying. It seemed strange to see Millie crying. It just was so out of character.
        "Matt, Luke, Larry, Son," she said through tears, "I feel terrible. Somehow or other I feel as though I am responsible for this."
        "Millie, that's exactly how I feel. Had I not kissed Luke..."
        "Or if I had not painted that picture..."
        "Stop it all, all of you!" Gertie said. "No-one except the boy who did it and his henchmen are responsible. How could you have known that he would do such a horrible thing? If we all didn't do things out of fear of what someone else might do, we'd never do anything. What you three did was wonderful and shows the world what love is about. That angry young man showed what hate can do. We can't stop doing things because there's hate in the world!"
        "I know you four want to get to the hospital although I doubt there will be any news for a long time. I had just got the Oberlin people on their way when I heard what had happened. I'm on my way home to get things set up to make it headquarters until Michael is out of danger. There'll be food and beds there for all who want or need them," Millie said.
        The four of us hugged Millie and we all had another good cry, then we left for the hospital.
        
Michael

        I couldn't believe how interested Shawn McKay and his three skinhead buddies seemed to be in the exhibition. It was also strange that their girlfriends were not with them, but standing on the steps outside. Usually they were attached to the side of their "men" as if they had been born siamese twins. Not only did the four keep asking me questions, but also Luke. Every time Luke got a few feet away, one of them would call to him with a question.
        It took them so long to get through the exhibition that all the other students had gone outside, leaving only the Fellowship and some of Bill's friends from the basketball team inside. We were finally ready to go into the fourth gallery, the one with the painting of Matt. As I always did, I stood back in order to allow those viewing the painting to receive the full impact of it. Suddenly Shawn McKay reached into his pocket and pulled out a long knife. Before I knew what was happening, he slashed the painting. I rushed toward him just as he turned and lunged at me with the knife. As he did, my world turned red and pain I could not have imagined took over my entire being. I fell to the floor and it seemed as though the pain and the red were all of my world. I heard voices at first, but they soon faded away. As the voices faded, the red started turning to gray, then black. I was alone and I didn't know where. I was only conscious of the pain then... nothing except blackness and pain.

Luke

        When we got to the hospital, there were about fifty students outside, standing holding hands, heads bowed. When we got inside, we found Mary Kathryn, Mom and Dad, and Yong Jin and Greywolf in a waiting room. "David and Margaret insisted on being in the operating room," Mom said. "The doctors tried to keep them out, but finally let them go. We have heard nothing."
        Larry and Eugene, Matt and I were standing, each holding his love. "Matt, if I hadn't done that painting..." I said, as I felt the tears rolling down my face.
        "If I hadn't kissed you in front of all those students..." Matt said through his tears.
        "Stop! Stop that nonsense! You are not responsible for what happened to Michael. Don't you dare start being guilty for being in love and letting it show," Larry said. "Don't you dare get yourself into the trap I fell into. Even though I did something terrible, I have had to get rid of the guilt. It will eat you alive and for what? It has been a long, hard struggle for me to finally forgive myself for what I did to Eugene. Don't you two even start. Don't even start collecting and holding on to guilt. Shawn McKay attacked Michael--not you two."
        "He's right, you know," Jens said. "I have been down that path and I can tell you, it accomplishes nothing. You didn't do anything to feel guilty about."
        As he was talking, Chelsea came into the room with David and Margaret. "These two need to be out here. There's nothing they can do in there except make things harder on the doctors who are working to save Michael." It was the Chelsea of no nonsense who spoke and it was easy to see that she was not taking anything off of David and Margaret.
        David sat down with is head in his hands, weeping while Margaret sat beside him, stroking his hair. "To be honest," Margaret said, "it doesn't look good. They have finally got the bleeding somewhat under control, but Michael lost so much blood, he is barely alive. The hospital is out of his blood type and no-one wants to try giving him universal donor blood until it is absolutely necessary."
        Chelsea had left the room and when she returned said, "Dr. Bai... Andrews, there is a whole line of kids waiting to give blood. Parents are arriving, offering to give blood and to give permission for their kids to give blood. The lab is flooded. If you are up to it, could you lend a hand?" Margaret was out of the room like a bullet.
        We waited--can anything be more difficult than waiting in a hospital?
        An hour or so later, Gladys appeared. "There's a bit of good news. There were several people who had the right blood type and the cross matches are ok. Michael is getting the blood he needs and seems to be responding to it. He's nowhere close to being out of the woods, but we no longer have to worry about the blood supply--at least for now."
        "Luke, we haven't offered to give blood," Matt said.
        "Nor have we," Eugene said.
        David raised his head and said, "Larry, Eugene, I don't want to hurt you, but one of the questions you will be asked is whether or not you have had sex with a man. Eugene, it is known that you have--without your consent--so your blood will not be accepted."
        "Neither will mine," Larry said, hanging his head.
        "There's nothing to be ashamed of," David said, "it's a precaution which, in your case I am sure is unnecessary, but there is no need for you to have to be subject to the questions and refused. You have my heartfelt thanks for your willingness to give blood."
        Matt and I went out and joined the line of those waiting to give blood and Larry and Eugene joined the vigil.
        The hospital was taking blood from all who offered, but the supply for Michael was still very small. Why didn't he have a common blood type?
        When Matt and I reached the nurse doing the forms, she asked if we had had sex with a man in the past two years. When we both answered "No," she looked up in surprise. "I guess you now see how a stupid assumption--which apparently you had--can hurt and maybe kill," Matt said through clinched teeth. I thought she would apologize, but she didn't.
        When we took our forms to the next person, he said, "There seems to be some question about your giving blood. I'll need to check this". As he got up to leave, Margaret came out of the lab. "Dr. Bailey--I mean Andrews, would you check these forms please?"
        As soon as Margaret looked at them, I could see steam coming out of her ears. In a cold, calm voice she said, "They have my clearance". Then, after signing the forms, she walked over to the woman who had questioned us and said, "Come with me!" When Margaret came back, the woman was no longer with her and someone else took over her job.
        Neither Matt nor I had the right blood type, but we donated blood nevertheless. After we had sat for the required length of time, we walked back to the waiting room, drinking our OJ. Chelsea was there. "Good to see you two. I have news which I was just about to tell everyone. The bleeding is under control and the surgeons are doing the repairs. There was some leakage from the bowel, so there is still a danger of a major infection. Fortunately, Michael appears to have no allergies to antibiotics and the IV antibiotics have been started. After the doctors got the bleeding from the cut on his face stopped, they did nothing else, waiting for the plastic surgeon from Lexington to arrive. He is here, but hasn't started work yet because the other wounds are more critical. There will probably be no more news for an hour or so if you want to stretch your legs or whatever. Also, Gladys and I are making reports to Millie's place and to the students outside."
        Matt and I decided to go see and thank the students. Outside it was obvious that most of those holding the vigil had given blood because they had the telltale bandaid. Others got up when students returned from giving blood and went to give theirs. As soon as we were outside, the members of the Fellowship came over. "Chelsea and Gladys have kept us informed," Bill said. "It looks a bit brighter than I expected. When I saw Michael lying in that pool of blood, I thought he was already dead. Thank God, I was wrong."
        We talked about what had happened and, once again, Matt and I were chided for taking blame. "I have told everyone my house is headquarters until Michael is out of danger," Eugene said. "Millie is sending over sandwiches and drinks for those participating in the vigil. Mr. Stephenson and Uncle Michael came by to offer food and beds to any who wanted them during the night."
        When we went back into the hospital waiting room, there was no more news. We sat, waiting with David, Mom and Dad, and Yong Jin and Greywolf. After another hour or so, Dr. Walker came down the hall to the waiting room. He did not look at all happy. "I'm afraid I have some bad news. Michael has taken a turn for the worse. The doctors have done all they can do, but I'm afraid... I'm afraid we are going to lose Michael. I'm very sorry. Everything seemed to be going so well and the plastic surgeon was ready to start work on his face when everything seemed to go wrong. No-one is sure why, but it looks bad, very bad."
        Suddenly I had the strangest feeling--I don't mean from the news. It was hard to describe. I looked at Matt and saw a very strange look in his eyes as though he was feeling something as well. In a voice I hardly recognized as Matt's he said, "Dr. Walker, Luke and I need to go to Michael".
        "You know that cannot be... well, that is very irregular Matt but I have seen you perform a miracle before and, frankly, there is nothing else we can do. Come with me." He led us down the hall and into the operating room where there were several doctors standing, looking at Michael and the monitors. "Doctors, this is Matthew Greywolf and Luke Larsen. Had Matt not performed what I consider a miracle, Luke would no longer be with us. They have asked to come here and I see no reason not to permit it. Guys, get washed up and the nurses will provide you with gloves, gowns and masks."
        As we were washing up, I asked Matt, "Matt, what are we doing? Why are we here?"
        "I don't know, Luke. I simply don't know, but when Dr. Walker was talking, I had the strangest feeling and felt like you and I had to go to Michael." I didn't answer, but I knew what he meant.
        When we went back into the operating room, the doctors watched as we moved toward Michael. Of course he was hooked up to all kinds of things, his face had a compress on it and he looked dead. Purely and simply, he looked dead. Matt walked to the other side of the operating table and when he did, took off the gloves the nurse had given him. I followed suit. Two doctors started toward us, but Dr. Walker held them back. Matt touched Michael's left foot with his hand and placed his other hand on the side of Michael's head. As he did, he looked as though an electric charge had passed through his body. I had no idea what was going on, but again followed suit. I couldn't believe how cold Michael's foot was when I touched it with my hand. As my other hand approached his head, I felt as though something was flowing through me and into Michael. I could feel myself growing weaker as the flow continued. I closed my eyes, concentrating on--what?--I didn't know. Gradually I began to feel pain and my world was turning red... then... nothing. The next thing I knew, I was on a gurney with Gladys standing over me. "What happened?" I asked.
        "I'm sure I don't know," she replied. "You and Matt went into the operating room with Dr. Walker and then you were wheeled out on gurneys, unconscious."
        "Matt?"
        "He's with Chelsea right over there. I think he's coming around too. I don't know whether it was the blood you gave--that shouldn't have made any difference--or the sight of Michael, or what, but apparently you two fainted. You haven't eaten all day, have you?" I shook my head, but I knew that wasn't the reason for our passing out. "Now just lie still for a while. You seem to be ok, but I don't want you passing out on me. We've got to get some food into you soon."
        I was very tired and sleepy and slowly drifted off to sleep. As I did, I felt the pain again and my world turned red as it had done when I touched Michael, but it was not as bad.

Michael

        I didn't know where I was or what was happening. All my world was red and smoke and pain--horrible, terrible pain. More than anything, I wanted to be out of pain. I wanted the darkness of the smoke to cover me and take away the pain. Slowly, beginning at my feet, the smoke covered me. It seemed to be entering my body, replacing it. As it did, the pain went away. Soon it would be over, the pain would be gone. Soon, soon, please soon. As the smoke whirled around me, it covered, then entered my stomach where the pain was terrible and the pain went away. "Please, take it all away," I cried to myself, for I was alone. Just before the pain completely vanished and I drifted into the smoke to sleep, I felt a presence--no, there were two--approaching. They wanted to bring the pain back! I tried to scream, but it was like a nightmare; I could make no sound. "Please go away! Take the pain away!" I wanted to cry, but no sound came.
        Suddenly, the presences I had felt approaching reached out and touched me. There was a blinding flash of light and in it I saw Matt and Luke, dressed as Lakota medicine men, reaching out and touching me. Again and again, lightening bolts came from their hands and ripped through my body. The pain was terrible! With each lightening bolt, Matt and Luke became smaller until, finally, they disappeared, leaving me in body-wracking pain. The smoke was gone and, as it disappeared, I saw Mary Kathryn, holding our son out to me. Then nothing.

Matt

        As I had told Luke, I didn't know why we needed to go to the operating room or what we were to do when we got there, but I knew we had to go. When we were all properly prepared, we approached the operating table where Michael lay. Without thinking--how would I know what to think?--I took off the gloves that covered my hands and Luke did likewise. When we touched Michael, I felt as though a tremendous lightening bolt shot through my body and into Michael's. As I continued to hold his foot and with my hand to the side of his head, the lightening bolts continued, each one leaving me in greater pain and definitely weaker. Energy or something was leaving my body and being replaced by pain--horrible, terrible pain. Everything turned red. I saw nothing except red--the red of blood. It seemed as though blood was pouring over me, covering my eyes until all I could see or imagine was blood, red blood, and all I could feel was pain. I felt myself growing weaker and weaker, then nothing.
        When I came to, I was lying on a gurney outside the operating room with Chelsea standing over me. "Here, drink this," she said, handing me a cup. I was almost too weak to raise up so she placed a hand behind my head and lifted it from the pillow and held the cup to my lips. When I had drunk the liquid, I lay back down, exhausted. As I drifted off to sleep, I saw that red world again and felt the pain, but it wasn't as bad as it had been when I touched Michael.
        When I waked up, Luke was half sitting, half lying on the gurney beside me. He bent over and kissed me softly as he whispered, "Sarang Hanun Pomul, what happened in there?"
        "Yonghon Tongmu, I wish I knew what and how and why, but I don't. I don't know anything about it. I just knew we had to do it."
        "Well, I see you're awake now, Matt. What happened?" Gladys asked.
        "As I just said to Luke, I don't know what or how or why anything happened except I knew we had to go to Michael. Is there any news?"
        "Nothing since you went in. Wait a minute, here comes Dr. Walker now with the chief surgeon."
        "Matt, Luke, I don't know what went on in there..."
        "Neither do we," Luke and I said at the same time.
        "Well, maybe we will know something later, but I suspect not. By the way, this is Dr. Martinez, the surgeon who was working on Michael."
        We shook hands as Dr. Walker said, "I have told Dr. Martinez about how you pulled Luke out of the grave and he wanted to meet you".
        "Matt, Luke, I have been witness to some strange things in my life, but I think your--what?-- performance in the operating room has to be one of the strangest. I would hate for my colleagues to hear me say it--they would laugh me out of town--but as soon as you two touched Michael, I saw a strange light pass from you to him. I don't know what was going on, but I will tell you that, while he is not out of danger by a long shot--he is still in very very critical condition--there is hope, and reason for hope. It was very strange to see you two pass out as he grew stronger. He is almost--almost--stable. If he stays as stable as he is, I think the plastic surgeon will risk working on his face. If Michael is stable enough--and that's still a big if--I only hope he can do a decent job because the cut is deep and I'm afraid it damaged some nerves--but the major thing is that Michael live. Now he may make it. I'd just like to know what you did."
        "So would we," Luke said quietly.
        Dr. Martinez, once again, said how puzzled he was and he and Dr. Walker went back to the operating room.
        "Chelsea, these two have eaten nothing today. They shouldn't have given blood in their condition, but I think we need to order them to go home--or to Millie's--and get some food and rest," Gladys said. "I promise we will call you if there is any news at all."
        Chelsea said, "I think we need to get the family to go as well, at least to eat".
        Well, who can deny Chelsea AND Gladys? The Fellowship was gathered together and joined by the family. "We're going to Millie's for food and a bit of rest," Jens said. "I think you and Margaret should come as well." David refused.
        Margaret was determined to stay with him until Yong Jin took her in hand. "You have been working like a dog and I know you haven't gotten any rest or food. You're coming with us."
        "I am not leaving David here alone with our son," she said most emphatically. "Our son," she had said. I guess you can plan not to be a mom to someone, but then you find out you are.
        "Margaret, for the sake of yourself and your twins, at least take long enough to put your feet up for a few minutes and get some food. I'll stay with David," Jens said. She was reluctant to leave but, after a soft kiss from David, which turned quite passionate, she left with us.
        After we had eaten and Margaret had relaxed as well as she could for half an hour--at least she put her feet up and, when she did, I noticed they were swollen from the hours she had been standing and walking--she was determined to go back to the hospital. Greywolf took her. The rest of us were sprawled out on chairs and on the floor in the living room. There was very little being said--I am sure all of us were buried in our own thoughts.

Mary Kathryn

        I was glad I was surrounded by people who cared about me and about the love of my life Michael. They all loved Michael for sure, but I didn't just love Michael. Michael was my very life. My every heartbeat was because Michael loved me. And now... well, there was hope, but... I don't think I could live without Michael and his love. I felt myself slowly sinking into hopelessness as I thought about life without my man. There would be no life without him. I could feel tears forming again--I thought I had long ago cried until there were no more tears.
        Luke must have noticed because he got up from where he was sitting between Matt's legs and walked over to me and put his arms about me. "Sis, Michael will make it. Remember, you and he had a son. Just remember that. A dead man does not father children. Michael will make it. I know it." As he gave me a hard Luke squeeze, Millie came into the room with a tray of sandwiches and drinks. We had eaten only a short time before but teens are always hungry, I guess, and all of us had missed lunch.
        "I'm taking this into the library," she said. "There has just been an announcement from WLEX that a student had been attacked in Concord today and LaTasha Jackson was on the way to cover the story. You know the rest, 'Film at 11:00'. It's 10:30 now so you may want to go upstairs to Eugene's to watch or come into the library with me."
        "Millie," Luke said, "I know we're supposed to be adults and I'm sure you suggested Eugene's place thinking we might like to be alone--alone together I mean--but, to tell the truth, I don't feel too adult right now and would like a mom around." Heads nodded all around.
        Millie got misty eyed as she said, "Luke, I have never been more honored".
        As we started to the library, the doorbell rang. When Millie went to the door, she came back with Uncle Michael. "I left John to take care of the students coming over from the vigil," he said. "When I heard WLEX was doing a report tonight, I felt I should be here with you since the parents are at the hospital." Before he had finished speaking, he was being hugged by the whole group.
        As we got settled with the sandwiches and drinks, waiting for the news, the phone rang. Everyone froze. I guess in such situations, you always expect the worst. Millie answered the phone and her whole body relaxed almost immediately but, just as quickly, it became rigid as she got a stricken look on her face.

Part Thirty-seven

Mary Kathryn

        As soon as I saw the look on Millie's face, I knew the worst had happened. I supposed I would have burst into tears, but I guess I had already cried myself out. I stood, stunned, waiting for the words which would end my life.
        Millie hung up the phone, turned to all of us who were waiting for the bad news. "I guess our news today comes as good news, bad news. The good news--the very good news--is that Michael has stabilized and the bleeding has been stopped. The plastic surgeon has started working on his face. Dr. Walker came out and told David and Margaret that he was very confident that Michael would live. He told them without the blood students and parents had given, he would not have. Now the bad news. Michael will carry a scar on his face for the rest of his life according to the plastic surgeon. He thinks it might not be too bad and, if it is, additional reconstructive surgery can be done when he is well. But, and this is the bad news. He is certain the slash to Michael's face caused nerve damage. Nerve damage cannot be repaired. This means there will be facial paralysis. He is not sure how much--it may be very bad or not so bad. Exactly how much damage has been done and how much paralysis there will be will not be evident for sometime. Michael is, of course, still under anesthesia and won't be conscious for some time. Even then he will be heavily sedated."
        "But he is out of danger?" I asked. "He will live?"
        "Well, he's still in a very critical condition, but there is real hope that he will make it. Dr. Walker is not one for undue optimism and he is very optimistic at this point. Every time I think about how a jackass damaged Michael's beautiful face I get so angry I am ready to strangle the son of a bitch with my bare hands. I keep thinking we will never see that famous Michael smile again," Millie said.
        "Well, at least he will be with us," Luke said. "I didn't think he would make it when I saw him lying there on the floor. But I am so angry, so very, very angry."
        We were all very silent for a time, then Eugene asked, "Millie, what will happen to those who did this to Michael? Surely they won't get away with it."
        "I'm not sure exactly what will happen. But I can assure you that they will not get away with it as long as I have money and lawyers--if that's what it takes to make sure they don't. My poor Michael's beautiful face and smile..."
        "But he'll still be Michael--and my man. So long as I have him, I don't care how he looks. I mean, I wish his face hadn't been cut. I wish he hadn't been cut. I wish he didn't have to suffer as I know he is, but he was cut and it looks as if he may live. That's all I ask, 'Let him live! Let him live!'"
        "Holy shit," Luke said, then everyone became very quiet since we all--I'm sure--thought of Michael. I felt tears welling up. "There is hope--real hope--that Michael will live. That's all I want. Sure, I wish his face won't be scarred--he