Fried Chicken Backs
When my mom fried a chicken, she and her four children took most of the pieces as the platter went around the dinner table. My father served himself last. And he always chose the back, the piece with hardly any meat on it. He insisted that it was the “best part of the chicken.”
My father left his family’s farm to go to college in 1924.
Five years later, The Great Depression would prove ruinous for his father – our grandfather — who committed suicide and left his family to carry on without him.
I believe our father vowed to himself that his children and their needs would always come first.
I can see my father clearly now. I can see him sitting at the maple wood table picking at his miserable piece of chicken and smiling. I can glimpse behind that smile and see the farm he never missed.
Most of all, I can see his love for us.
Frank Harmon is an architect, educator, and writer who is well known for designing buildings that cultivate the “native wisdom” of their place.
He sketches often, finding that the practice enriches his connection to the world. In his recently released book, Frank offers an invitation: drawing as a way to inspire curiosity, presence, and everyday joy.