Poxig is based on my son, Gabe. As understood from the prequel of the adventures of Poxig, he is a troubadour of sorts. Indeed, my son is also pretty good with a guitar. Of course, he loves baseball more, but Poxig lives in world in which baseball would be anachronistic. In all honesty, these perfunctory literary efforts are all dedicated to him. All illustrations are colored by him.
I was reminded that a great vocabulary is the hallmark of an educated person. This is essentially true of the misanthrope, as well as the scholar. I only wish that my son would develop a better vocabulary, and that is the focus of my literary efforts. It is understood by most parents that it is always a work in progress. I would definitely concur.
Any parents out there know that we imagine heights that our children may never reach. But that does not mean that we shouldn’t dream. It just means that as they grow up, we should prepare them for reality as best we can. That magical time which is called adolescence should be a time of character development. These are tender years, nonetheless.