Remembering My Father Herman Maril

When I was 15 years old, I traveled to Mexico with my parents. It was the first time any of us had visited another country (although my father had served in World War II, he was never shipped overseas). An artist and head of the studio department at the University of Maryland, College Park, myContinue reading “Remembering My Father Herman Maril”

A Lesson of Determination from My Father

My father, the artist Herman Maril, dislocated his ankle– not only breaking bones, but tearing muscles, tendons, and ligaments when I was a child. It was a traumatic event, requiring the arrival of the Lower Cape Rescue Squad and ambulance, which took him Up Cape to Hyannis and Cape Cod Hospital in the dark ofContinue reading “A Lesson of Determination from My Father”