My great granduncle, Rafael Eiroa, was an artist in the late XIX century Spain. One of his paintings was in my parents? home. It was a middle age woman sitting in a dilapidated straw chair. Her eyes were unfixed and gazed into space. It was almost as if she was waiting to catch the opportunity she did not have. Every night I fell to sleep thinking about her, about opportunities, the future, and most definitively that I wanted to paint like my uncle Rafael.

After the Spanish Civil war, my family like many others immigrated to Argentina looking for the freedom they did not have. I still remember vividly those 21 days crossing the ocean aboard the steamship Buena Esperanza (Good Hope). My great granduncle?s large canvas was carefully removed from the frame by my father, rolled and stored into a trunk labeled ?memories from Spain?.

Many years had passed before my mother decided to open the trunk. The canvas was severely damaged. I was a teenager and had forgotten the woman sitting in a chair. Nevertheless, my parents knowing my interest for art suggested that I repair her. I bought oils and brushes and I did it! I knew then what I wanted to become. But when I told my father about my desire to enter the school of art he said ?study son, you will always have time to paint?.

I became a physician and soon after graduation I moved to the USA with my wife and daughter looking for freedom and opportunities, like my parents did. It has been a great 40 years journey but I never found time to paint like my father said.

Thus, I left medicine and science at age 60 to find time to paint. My youngest son Rafael after reading this statement he smiled and firmly said ?I will start a career in art this fall semester?. If I finish wanting to paint like my uncle Rafael and my son Rafael, I would say it is not a bad way to end.