I read about Joe Harris in the Houston Post when there still was a Houston Post.  I preferred the sports writers at the Post. They were more blatantly pro Houston Rockets than the writers at the Chronicle.  I never forgave the Chronicle for surviving.  I subscribed to it for a few years until I realized that our take on sports was not our only difference of opinion.  

Joe Harris was a caddie at Memorial Park.  He lived in Galveston in one of the poor, black neighborhoods.  In addition to the Silk Stocking District and the beaches, Galveston has some serious ghettos.  It was in that world that Joe Harris was shot in the head in a drive by shooting. 

In addition to loving golf, Joe was a painter.  Although I never saw his early paintings, I hear they were beautiful landscapes. The shooting left Joe completely blind. Funny thing, Joe continued to paint. Most blind people lose all memory of sight after eight years. Joe didn’t. That sets him apart. He only paints two things now. The Garden of Eden and golf holes.  He paints on sand paper and uses his fingers to apply the wax based paint.  

When I read his story, I had to have one of his paintings. It hangs in our powder room and it reminds me daily of the power of the human spirit and the wonder of our maker. It’s a lesson I’ve needed a reminder of lately.