This is my father pictured below. Norm Keith Rockwell. He went by Keith, but people loved to call him Norman Rockwell because who wouldn’t! He WAS an art teacher and a magazine cartoonist, not the painter, not that that mattered.
In 2023 he died after a short illness he was hoping would be a bit longer. (I used this line in his obituary but the family redacted it even though they told me to be “funny”)
There are two things I know about my father:
- He never flew in his life.
- He hated living in Oregon—and preferred Wisconsin. Just couldn’t give up the cheese curds, apparently. He moved back the first chance he got, ten months later.
After he passed away, my mother had him cremated. She decided both my brother and I would get a portion of him. In this little urn (pictured below).
My mother sent him to me, Flat-Rate Priority Mail, via Airmail, to “live” with me in Oregon.
I’d say he was rolling over in his grave, but he’s in this little pewter(?) urn.
