words contributed by elaine woltemate
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frank was truly one of a kind. he had so many talents--it is hard to say which one was greater than the other.
his writing was deep and profound, getting one inside his mind and riveting one to look into their own. his poetry was glaringly true and beautiful. to bare and share one's soul was his aim, and he didn't miss the mark. to say it touched a person was only half the truth.
his art was simple and outstanding. he captured his thoughts on canvas and could paint an object or even a concept without fault. its simplicity was the attraction, and his use of color the best.
( this is one of frank's blue-hued paintings. )
the portraits were gifts of god. he did a remarkable job of detailing the qualities of his subject without thought of gain for himself. they are outstanding and a talent unto itself.
i think of frank with love. why didn't he know how much we all felt for him. i wish i had done more for him. we were just at a turning point when he died, and i will regret forever that i did not have a chance to tell him.
i miss him.
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