When my mom died, I also brought over one of my favorite paintings of all time. It was once shown at a gallery in New York, and thought it was clearly marked "not for sale," literally dozens of people wanted desperately to buy it.
My maternal grandfather, a poor guy trying to make a few dimes a day during the depression to feed his family, had an incredible wit. Somebody recognized it, and eventually got him a job with an advertising agency on Madison Avenue. He never looked back. Thirty years later, he was an executive there, and of course saw all the BS that went on in the boardroom.
He retired and took up painting at age 80. His wit continued to guide him, and his first effort, which I said I would NEVER let go as long as I lived, was his impression of a boardroom meeting. It was called "The Blockheads:"
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This is from the same guy who once spontaneously warned against the Copulation Explosion. I have that painting on my wall at the house in Germany. As long as I'm there, it stays.
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