In my youth I met a man who was, at least to me, a great Artist. He worked in oil and black velvet; many of his works the kind of half-naked gorgeous blondes on black vervet that is still occasionally found in rural taverns and backroad garage sales.

My friend's name was **Gilbert McEvers** and, by his own admission, was a drunk, through and through. Yet, at something like 60, he told me that he had stopped drinking and was attempting to get his life together at a men's shelter, not long before I met him. He had been in and out of prison many times.

He told me about one incident in his life when he was alone shaving and the next thing he knew, police had stormed in and arrested him for armed robbery! He told me he didn't do this crime and didn't know who had. It was a theft of about $1, mostly in pennies, using a gun which was never recovered. He had no resources and fought his own fight as a jailhouse lawyer, but lost.

He spent the rest of his life in prison, so far as I know; I lost track of him in the late 60's. At one point I tried to find his name or any surviving works on the internet, but was unsuccesful. I still have at least one of his paintings that he painted (of me at age 19).

I assume he died in prison, here in Washington State.

In any case, the other day I was thinking of this man and my mind put new meaning to the term, "In for a dime, in for a dollar".

I am saddened that this great talent was wasted in vast stretches of time behind bars.

Maybe it wasn't wasted.