Water day. Time to get the Red Flyer Wagon out from under the porch. Wrapped with just a bow on the handle, Santa left it for all us kids one Christmas. No Hopalong Cassady cap pistols again... The wagon sat in the basement till spring, and then it was only hauled out when it was planting time in the big garden up the street. Parked under the porch with the lawnmower, it made for a good hiding place when mom wanted to take us kids visiting. Singing was a chore we did, not one I liked. We sang happy birthday to neighbors when it wasn't their birthday. It was the one song we knew well enough to sing. Mom tried to teach us show tunes and we managed to make them sound… well, not good but, not bad for kids.
The Red Flyer did not fly, as it did more plodding along when accompanying neighbors to grocery stores or hauling water. Santa left the wagon for Mom more than for us kids. Loaded with garden tools and two big pails of water, Francis usually pulled as I pushed from behind most days. Mrs. Clemen would comment what great help mom had as we passed her house. Donny has a new sandbox and is inviting Francis and I to come and play in it... We pushed on.
Dad had tilled the garden the night before and laid out stakes where we were to plant things. The Flyer was dusted off and dad set it out for mom the night before. Planting the garden was a big thing at our house. Everything was planned for. Even what would be canned and what would be given to neighbors. At the garden, Mom carefully placed each seed in just to the right depth and each got a scoop of water. Three trips back to the house for water. Never got much fun from that wagon. Mr. Kish sat on his porch watching Mom plant peas and the green beans he'd be asking for in June.
I wasn't happy hauling water in those days or singing songs to make neighbors happy. Those things were my lessons in what neighbors do. Years later when I was studying art in New York I got a ten dollar check from Mrs. Clemen to help me along and another check from Father Bob for shoveling snow from around the church. Painting is my time for understanding, for looking back and seeing how I got here. A painting may not sell, but it still gives to people, like those green beans to Mr. Kish and singing Happy Birthday to Mrs. Linster in May when her Birthday was Feb 29th.
