Dad tinkered in the basement fixing things. Mostly electric motors which he retrieved from trips to the dump. Mom always considered it a good Saturday when Dad returned from the dump empty handed. Trips to the dump were to get rid of the ashes from our coal burning furnace and finding old burnt-out motors was dad's reward.
With a family of seven, washing machines were in use a lot. While dad tinkered in the basement, mom worked at the sewing machine making our clothes. At first it was a foot-powered machine. I remember how tickled mom was to get the new motor-powered Singer. New dresses and shirts were coming every week. I still got hand-me-downs, but with less wear. Had two older brothers who got the new shirts.
An average evening my older sister, Annie, was in the den playing one of the pianos. My younger sister, Cathy, was doing homework in the girl’s room. Oldest brother, Michael, was at the dining room table doing his homework. Francis, my second older brother, was fixing his bike in the basement. Me? I was laying on the living room floor looking at the illustrations in the magazine "Boys Life,” my textbooks laying next to me. Mom would call out asking if every one was doing their homework. The piano playing would stop and I'd close my magazine and only the clatter of the sewing machine would be heard. I'd do just enough homework to get by then copy a drawing from my Walter Foster Art Book, “How to Draw Horses.” Wore that book out copying those drawings.
When summer came, Mom bought me my second Walter Foster Art Book, “How to Draw Dogs,” and Dad bought a baseball glove for me. At first, I wore the glove only - no one to play with. Michael had a paper route and his books, Francis had his paper route and his bike. I put the glove away and took my sketchbook out. Drew grasshoppers and cicadas and Mr. Koos, our neighbor, napping in his garden. Took it with me when I went with my Granddad, but was too busy hauling water to the tomato plants to get in any drawing.
Got a lot of drawing in during the school year though. During class I hid my drawing behind Tom Erath, who always sat up straight. Of course I never knew where we were in our textbook when it came my turn to read... All my teachers compared me to my older brother Michael, who all through grade school and high school was the perfect student. I didn’t measure up. I just could not get drawing out of my head.
