I ask Trevor if he was the one who made that great little portrait behind him on the pole and he turns to look at it and says no. Continues with the fact that he has absolutely no drawing or painting skills as opposed to his sister who can open a Cosmopolitan magazine and draw exactly what is in it. And a singer, she can sing like Sarah Vaughn and Ella Fitzgerald just belt out those songs from the bottom of her heart. So what is she doing now with all that talent, asks I, "NOTHING" says Trevor, she has a job for 6 months and then messes it all up, all my family is in Montreal. And they all fucked me good when my dad died.