Drying the dinner dishes and putting all of them away was followed by homework time. When summer came, Mom and Dad had their own ideas of what homework was. The March Of Dimes was Mom's way of introducing us to the neighbors. I didn't know what the March of Dimes was, only that Mom took me and Francis around the neighborhood asking for money. Some gave just a dime while some gave a dollar. Most knew Francis already. I was new to this so Mom made me introduce myself and shake everyones hand.
Dad took me with him when the Knights of Columbus gave Tootsie Rolls away to people who dropped coins into a can. Again, I shook hands with people and told them my name, handing them a Tootsie Roll. I think this was a way of Mom and Dad knowing what us kids were up when we were out on our own… They were always getting calls from people letting them know what I had done that day that I shouldn't have. Like cutting through people's yards and helping myself to Mr. Miller's cherries, or Mrs. Mattes grapes. Mom would send us kids to apologize and we would have to offer to do chores, like sweep Mr. Swares sidewalk.
Sometimes we had to do things for people who we hadn't even done anything to. Mr. Toadas was one, he was born with a body that didn't work right. Many times I had to put my cowboys away, to carry Mr. Toadas' groceries home for him. My Red Flyer Wagon came in handy for a lot of those things Mom volunteered us kids for. Dad tried to explain why we had to return the dimes people gave us kids for those things we did for them, and then why it was okay for Mom to go door to door asking for dimes.
Mom loved to explain how doing things for others is a good thing. Mom always told us how much better we felt after doing such things. I always felt hot and tired, or freezing cold shoveling snow for someone at five in the morning before school... What I did feel good about afterward though was hitting Maurie Misner. He was a bully who picked on Francis and me. I didn't win that fight, it just felt good hitting him. The phone call came and mom sent me down to his house to apologize and shake his hand. Dad didn't let Mom see him smile when she told him I was fighting.
Mom taught me how to treat other people. Dad taught me how to treat my tools. I clean my brushes every night when I finish painting and do the best I can with every painting . There is a look in people's eyes that is a reward for me when they see my work, even when they are not going to buy. That is what Mom and Dad taught was my reward.
