Behold! I am probably two years old here. There are some important characters in this picture, besides myself. One is my Papa, Jim Gensler, the other is one particularly sketchy goat(I’ll let you figure out who is who).
Now if you really look at my face in this picture, I’m not having what that goat is selling. There is something about this goat that I don’t trust, and the fact that I am supposed to feed this sinister being from my palm is, in itself, alarming. I can only imagine what this small innocent version of myself is thinking…
"Now you watch yourself goat, you can’t be eating this hand, I NEED this hand!"
And frankly can you blame me? The goat was bigger than I was! So why am I even daring to feed this dumb eyed monstrosity? Well, because my Papa is there of course.
My Papa represents many things to me, I still see him how I did back then. Someone who is strong, someone who is a hero, someone who could beat this goat to within an inch of it’s goat-being life if it dared bite his grandson!
So, though maybe skeptical as to why, I proceed in feeding the goat.
That ugly, dirty, goat.