The two posters you see here were both created by the late Frank Lewis. They are two of my personal favourites. Whenever I could, I would ask Frank to do a poster for any event I was involved in.

Frank Lewis was an incredible artist and illustrator who, I feel, has never been fully recognized for his contributions to the Canadian art world. He was one of the first artists to do large outdoor murals, some of which are still standing. If you go down to the Maritime Museum at Kitslano Beach, you can see one of his murals. Frank struggled through most of his life to be able to do what he loved best, which was to draw.

Frank had a great idea in having smoke coming out of the ship's smokestacks to form the letters of the upcoming acts on these posters. When he would do a new poster, I could always count on it being an original piece of art. It should be noted that at the time Frank created these posters, they were all hand-drawn. As a matter of fact, all the posters from the sixties and seventies were hand-drawn, as we did not have computers then. A different time, yet we survived.

I first met Frank when I was 15, a teenager who thought he knew everything. I feel very fortunate to have met him at such young age. I was in awe, watching Frank turn his thoughts into drawings. I commissioned him to paint a portrait of my grandparents as a gift for my mom. As I write this story, that painting is hanging on the wall beside me and I feel my grandparents' presence. My mother was in awe of this portrait; it is one of Frank's early oil paintings. My mom told me that she felt her father was watching her from the canvas.

The power an artist can have with a pen, pencil, or brush is, to me, like the power a writer has with words. Frank had that creative power, and these two posters are an example of that. They show what a great artist he was.

Frank passed away several years ago at the age of 80. When I met him, he was 30, and I thought he was so old, yet we became close friends, I still miss him.

Recently, I had lunch with a group of old friends, and who was sitting beside me but Frank’s daughter Mia, who is also a great artist in her own right. It made me realize that all of those people there I had met—and had become close friends with (and whom I also considered extended family)—as a result of my friendship with Frank.

As future generations come along, the circle continues to expand.

This past Thanksgiving was a very quiet one; we spent it with close friends in our new home in Coquitlam. As I reflect back on 50 years, I realize that Thanksgiving has always been special to me. My mom would have an open-door policy, in that anyone was welcome for dinner. (Although the Thanksgiving of 1967 was difficult for me, as I was awaiting trial for my second bust; life was not so good for me, yet somehow I coped.)

When I first started to write my book (see below), it was difficult for me to be open about my strange journey as a music promoter. Now I feel blessed to have survived a time when so many were dying from drugs and bad choices.

Now, though, we again have many dying, this time from fentanyl overdoses, and it continues as an epidemic. I wonder if it will ever change, but I feel there is a light at the end of tunnel, given that we are on the eve of the legalization of cannabis.

Now I take my tonic (a legal hemp oil ) to help with my nightmares from the past and to deal with my PTSD.

What a strange world we live in .