I’m 70 now, and every morning I walk to the same park with my easel and paints, settling by the pond where families wander past. I wasn’t always a painter—after 30 years as an electrician, everything changed when my wife passed away and my daughter Emily required long-term care. Painting began as a way to fill the quiet, heavy nights, and eventually I started selling my work in the park to help support Emily’s therapy.
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