Here Comes Taylor
21 x 27 inches, Oil on Canvas
Taylor Moss was a bachelor and a brick mason. He was one of nine children in the Moss family, a big, friendly bunch who lived in a Victorian house on West Main Street in New Iberia.
We called him Mister Taylor.
His walking path to and from work took him right past my grandparents' porch. Mister Taylor didn't build houses. Instead, he built burial crypts for the nearby Rose Hill cemetery.
In the late afternoon, we'd see him heading home in his dirty work clothes. A few hours later, we might have another sighting - the bricklayer scrubbed clean and wearing a crisp white shirt. We knew by his shirt sleeves - rolled up neatly and held in place with garters - that Mister Taylor was ready for a night at the card table.
On moonlit nights, he seemed to generate a glow of his own - a luminescent figure coming up the road and heading toward whatever fortune he might find.
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