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Show 160 its plate overhang. "Who's Reuben Garrison?" Sean asked. "The Holy Ghost." Leah laughed out loud at her own joke, Todd shook his head. "Is he a painter?" Sean asked Hunt. Clearly, he wanted to know; he wanted an answer. "Is he one of those painters a long time ago, who painted mostly Jesus?" "Good title for a book," Leah ventured an aside to Hunt: "Mostly Jesus." "This family's getting crazier and crazier," Hunt said looking around the table. "I_ used to be crazy. But now this family is." "I'm not crazy," Todd said, wanting it known. "Reuben Garrison isn't real," Hunt explained to Sean. "He's your father." Leah's words almost overlapped. "Guys? - What are 'rockets'?" Hunt asked, looking at one and then the other of his sons. Back in his studio, after dinner, Hunt mixed colors and began to paint in the eight city elevators. He moved from easel to easel, canvas to canvas, like a dutiful but uncertain child. He applied paint. His skills and instincts served him. But a major part of him felt unconscious; his mind drifted. Something, perhaps Sean's question over dinner, triggered a memory, sent him back to early childhood, about the age Todd was now, perhaps a bit younger -- it was all faint, like a glass etching, and dreamy. But Hunt remembered being |