|(My dad with me, and my brother Mike...was taken on the patio of an old farm house we lived in at the time.|
I have a post about that house: http://musingsfrommarsh.blogspot.com/2011/02/down-on-farm.html )
‘Tis Father’s Day today. Time to give props to dads everywhere. It’s the wee hours of Sunday morning, so the day has just begun. Since I have to work later in the day I figured I would take a moment to make mention of my dad. If I wait until I get home, the day might get away from me.
Jerry Patrick Brown was born in Knoxville, Tennessee. Although he has lived in Los Angeles, California, for many years, he has always been a southerner at heart and holds the people and this part of the country dear. He is a creative soul with a great sense of humor, and a talent for writing. Some of my early memories are of when he co-owned a commercial production company in Atlanta, Georgia, award winning Provence Productions. (On a side note, I was actually in a commercial in my youth. I want to say that I was around 6 (?)…I still thought boys were yucky, so I know I was pretty young. It was for Sears Winnie the Pooh children’s clothes. The spot was shot at the Atlanta Zoo, and I had to hold hands with a boy. EW! *grin*)
I’m trying to Reader’s Digest things a bit, so I’m going to fast forward a little to his move across the country to L.A. A very talented writer, he entered into the entertainment industry where he wrote episodes for a number of television shows. He also holds the credits of Story Editor, Creative Consultant, Producer, Co-Executive Producer, and Head Writer. (Another side note: I have a piece I wrote that I had been adapting into pilot form for TV a number of years back, and I asked him to give me some notes. It was my first stab at writing a teleplay. A very different animal from book writing. He read it, and we sat down at the kitchen table to go through it. These were the first words I heard, “Page one.” ~ I suppose I might hear crickets from some who read this…a writer would get it, and trust me…it’s funny. It might not have been at that moment, but now I can laugh. *grin*)
|(My dad, and mom, c. 1966)|
I ended up with two creative parents. My mother was an artistic soul, her interests and talents leaning toward the abstract. My dad is also artistic (I do look at writing as an art form), his talents centered on the written word. I got creative genes from both.
Writing has always been something that I have enjoyed, and over the years I have cultivated my talent. However, my leanings are more toward book writing than teleplays. I was involved with a theater company, “The Company of Angels”, for several years and during that time I produced and directed. I also became a produced playwright for my play, “Rednecks & UFOs”. I remember my dad coming to see “Rednecks”, and watched him laugh the whole way through (it is a comedy if the title didn’t clue you in…). I was proud that he enjoyed it since his genes were involved in its creation. (One more side note: I remember the very first cast read-through of "Rednecks". The room was filled with laughter. When we stepped outside for a smoke at the act break, almost all of the actors (most of which accepted their roles as they were friends of mine) didn't get the jokes until the read through. They said that reading it out loud with all of the actors together brought the humor out. I was kind of surprised. I knew it was funny...I wrote the damn thing. *HAH*)
I have been told often over the years that I am like my dad in many ways, and no better compliment could be paid to me. My parents divorced when I was quite young, and I lived with my mother most of the time. I would see my dad mostly on the ‘every other weekend’ bit that a lot of kids of divorced parents do. It wasn’t until I moved to California myself that I really got to spend time with him, and in some ways really get to know him. That move was at least twenty years ago. (My how time flies.) Now I am back in the south having moved to Savannah, Georgia, almost five years ago. In some ways it doesn’t feel that long, but in terms of seeing my dad it feels a lot longer. Hopefully I’ll get to change that in the not too distant future.
From the hot and humid marsh, “Happy Father’s Day, dad!”
Oh, and before I forget, “Happy Father’s Day” to my brother, Mike. J