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Ticket stubs. Letters. Cards. Calendars. Programs. Coupons. Clippings. Receipts. Postcards. Documents. Photographs. Scraps of paper inscribed with handwritten notes or lists—some hopelessly illegible. Everything else relegated to be out of sight, out of mind until the mythical far-off day “when I have time.” Why have I felt compelled to save so much stuff over the…
Writing “The Battalion Artist” – What was Nat Thinking?
September 18, 2019
On June 21, 2012, Nat Bellantoni, age 91, told his daughter Nancy he wanted to write a book. “Well, you better hurry up!” Nancy said. Even now, even as he neared death, it was possible to joke with Nat. But he was serious. “I want a book about my paintings.” The eyes of father and…