Why I decided to weave my way up through the backyards to the end of our block I don't know. I think it was just something to do. It began with Major, our dog, barking at a large garden snake . At first I simply wanted to see where the snake went. Squeezing between Mrs. Mathew’s hedges and Mr. Serdus’s fence I followed it to Mr. Fromhart’s garden. Under Mr. Fromhart’s raspberries I crawled, careful to keep out of sight - Mr. Fromhart was not a friendly man…
The snake was gone. I thought of turning back. That's when the idea of crawling all the way to the end of our block to Sheridan St. came to me. I lived in a very old neighborhood, I mean the people were old, but to a six year old everyone was old. Our neighbors were all in their 70's . Mom was always sending one of us kids to do something for one of the neighbors. My oldest brother, who could cross the street on his own, was often sent to the store for a loaf of bread for a neighbor, or a small bag of coffee.
I was often left on my own to entertain myself. This venture of crawling up the middle of the block was one of those ideas I came up with. I'd forgotten about the snake and now I was interested in seeing the backyards of our neighbors. I found a fallen apple to munch on in Mrs. Mathew's yard, and sampled the raspberries in Mr. Fromhart's. I discovered my only friend, Donny, had a new sandbox to play in. His mom told me he was off with his dad on a fishing trip, and then she added that I could play in the new sandbox. I thanked her.
Mrs. Ruland, the next neighbor, was setting up for a picnic with nice, fine dishes being used. Mrs. Ruland's daughter offered me a piece of cake and a lemonade. I sat with her for a few minutes , explaining what I was doing.
Next was Mrs. Hauss's yard, who was resting in the shade. She asked if I was one of the Hettinger’s. I said I was and she returned to her napping.
Next was the Hauss's empty lot where mom and dad had our garden. Mr. Pailler was used to me being in the garden, touching up the back of his garage with a bit of paint. He paid no attention to me. Someone lived in his garage, which had been turned into a small apartment. Neither of us spoke as I continued on my trip.
I was now at the butcher knife lady's yard . Supposedly she had chased my brother Mike, and my sister Pat, with a butcher knife long before I was born. With no sign of the butcher knife lady I made a dash for the Raush's yard.
The Raush’s owned the corner store at the other end of the block. Mrs. Raush was hanging wash and told me I was a good ways from home. I stood up straight and nodded. She returned to her wash and I went on my way to the Jungle’s garden.
The Jungle’s had a huge flower garden. Mom would often take a walk up the street to the Jungle’s just to see their garden and maybe get a tip or two about different flowers. The two Jungle brothers lived by themselves; their family farm was just a block farther on. I couldn’t venture there without getting a real lecture from dad. Sometimes one of the cows from the farm would push open a gate and then the excitement of trying to get them back to the farm would begin. For some reason one or two of the cows liked coming to town. Once it happened on a Monday, wash day, and seeing all the ladies trying to keep the cows from going through their wash was the most fun. With the Jungle’s I had reached my goal, Sheridan Street.
40 years later I re-lived this venture as I painted a farmhouse with a line of wash drying in the breeze. Painting often brought on such memories especially when I was out painting by myself. I believe these memories add a bit to my paintings. Years after that little venture several of those neighbors' houses ended up on canvases or in sketchbooks. Even Major, who has been long gone, has been brought back to be in a painting or two.
