Had this engraved when I was living in Brooklyn. Perhaps this was a subconscious expression of my cheerless, depraved existence there.  It cost $300 for both the inscription and the stone. Content on netting a sale, Morty, the owner/manager at the monument company, gave me a great deal, and didn’t ask any questions. When I picked the stone up at the lot, four or five laborers hovered about me, curious to know what the inscription meant and why. If I had an answer I would have told them. They gestured toward Manhattan,assuming that I was one of those artist freaks who lived there. Soon after, I moved back to Denver to live with my dad and to solidify a much needed connection with him. I had this piece hauled all the way back on a truck and muscled it into his cramped garage. Some days later as I was painting it, he ventured in, curious to see this project that was consuming so much of my attention, and after  watching for a couple of minutes, he shook his head, walked away, and grumbled “Jeeesus Christ.” Think Archie Bunker or Willy Loman. An epitaph for those times. I eventually smashed it to bits with a sledge hammer so it can be infused into America's favorite sandwiches.
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