I will never forget one morning, dad was getting ready for work, and soon to leave out for the day. Right before he left, he stopped, grabbed a local phone book, and showed me the back cover. It was an ad for a welding company or something like that. He explained to me that someone's job was to put things like that together, and that person is called a "commercial artist". I remember it actually made quite a lot of sense to 10-year-old me, and I often wondered if that played a role in my going into that line of work. He knew I loved comic books and liked to draw, and I guess he figured I would naturally understand this discipline enough to be interested in it. Little did I know he was my first teacher. He taught me so much through the sheer act of doing.