Vox Populi

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David Huddle: Parable of My Family’s Artistic Impulses

In the days before he squandered his wealth, Grandaddy
Huddle ordered kits of fishing gear, photographic
equipment, and an oil painting outfit that included
an easel, brushes, paint, and even a palette and smock.
The one painting he completed was of a woman with 
    a red sun
behind her and her husband who sat on a porch 
    with a shotgun
across his lap.  My father, affectionately known 
by his sons as Doodles, took up painting-by-the-numbers.
His vision of blue jays hung over the toilet to be
reckoned with by any urinating male. Aunts and cousins
crocheted, made quilts and needlepoint, and sometimes 
Aunt Stella played guitar and sang. Grandmama Huddle
dipped snuff, closed her eyes, rocked to Montovani’s
silver strings on WYVE, occasionally smiling to herself.

David Huddle’s books include My Surly Heart (LSU Southern Messenger Poets, 2019)

Copyright 2020 David Huddle

Vintage bird paint by number – blue jay 

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