me – as I lay there I fell to thinking of Sides and his untimely death – Some of the subconscious thoughts I had when he was going that I did not even dare admit to myself at the time came rushing back, accusing me so that I was in an agony of remorse – certain events grow larger and more significant long after their actual occurrence – I was sorry at the time of his death, angry at the unconcealed relief that the Company felt, and bitter at the needlessness of his death.  But now I felt the tragedy of his passing much more than at the time – I thought of our early  “kamaraderie” of the winter of 1921-22 – our walks together, out taking in movies together, of our nonsensical talk at our work, how I confided in him about my approaching marriage and asked his advice as a son might a father – [and I think sometimes he had a special fondness for me because I was just as old as his oldest boy ( whom he lost at 15 by drowning) would have been]; I thought of his genuine interest in my painting, and my advancement as a designer – There seemed, as I lay there, some possible precious quality about our relationship that I missed at the time, that now would be possible, if he were not gone
                                             ____________________
     The whole keynote of my painting in the last year is that I have lacked the energy and will-power to carry out my ideas – procrastination, laziness and indecision have undermined me. –
     Every so often someone decides that native American talent should be stimulated to production and accordingly a contest is announced and prizes given and learned men act as judges.  But native talent that needs a prize as stimulation is not worth bothering about – the abortions that result were better left unproduced, for they only clutter up the scene and  befog the issues.  The talent that matters is that which scorn, ridicule, hardship and poverty cannot keep from expressing itself let alone having to be stimulated.