Kenneth O’brien, my father, passed away last Saturday. He has been mentioned on this blog before, in reference to his photographic art. He was 95 years old, and spent 50 of those years as a resident of Venice.
And he loved Venice – the bohemian anarchy, the tolerance, the freedom, the sense of exploration – all the things he left Valley View, Texas to go looking for back in the late thirties. We found a rundown old Victorian near the beach, and bought it cheap.
We built his and my mom’s dream home – a funky, antique filled, madly impractical home. And over the years we filled it with people – all the crazy, disparate, oddballs and adventurers that were our friends.
And my Dad lived every minute of it. He made a life in this town. He photographed it lovingly. He taught math to three generations of it’s children – and he made it his.
I walk around this big old house now, and I feel the emptiness – it will be awhile before that phantom aching stops.
I miss him terribly, and I always will. But when I look outside, and see the warm California sun glowing, and smell the sea, and hear the crowds and distant drums – I am home, and so is Dad.
Rest in peace, good man.
