|Dawn over the Sea of Cortez, Mexico|
Hearing and listening to the wee small voice...
One evening in 1967, I had the privilege of being a dinner guest in the Los Angeles home of a fairly well known artist and his wife, whom I’ll call Michael and Angela. It was a fabulous event. The rest of the guests and I were not only treated to a sumptuous meal but we were allowed to preview some of this artist’s freshest works. (Most of those works have since been sold to collectors or have been placed in some of the world’s finest museums.)
During the course of the evening, Michael related the following story, slightly paraphrased and edited for here style and content, with his permission: