My red wagon is a source of both pain and pleasure. When mom called for me to get my red wagon I knew it was going to take me away from my toy cowboys and my imaginary ranch under the lilac bushes for some time. Washing my hands and putting on a clean t-shirt meant we were going to be doing something for a neighbor. Which meant sitting still and being quiet for an hour or so, sometimes longer... Seemed like a punishment, like a timeout or sitting in the corner, for things I didn't do well.
That day I was to accompany Mr. Todas to the store and haul his groceries to his house with my wagon. Mr. Todas' right hand just hung there and his right leg was short and permanently bent. Mom volunteered me to be a good little boy, which I wasn't. Unaware that I was a quiet one, that I didn't speak, he peppered me with questions as we walked. He might have figured it out after several questions with no answers coming forth from me, I gave no answers to anyone, talked to no one. At the store I pushed his shopping cart down one aisle and up the second aisle. Kroger was a tiny store then and had just two narrow aisles. At the time, it seemed big to me, but it was a very tiny store. Across the street from Kroger, was another grocery store where I received my reward, a piece of hard sour candy. There were grocery stores for every nationality on Pigeon Hill back then.
Loaded with groceries, Mom had to take over the wagon pulling when we reached our house. Miller's driveway was too steep for me with a loaded wagon. Mom thought I would be dragged out into the street and hit by a car. Since the big accident on the corner, Mom kept us kids close to the house, in the backyard most of the time. I remember seeing the turned over car and a blonde lady laying in the grass. Mom and the neighbors rushed to help and Mom yelled for us kids to stay in the house. She didn't want us kids getting used to the idea of crossing streets alone.
Mom directed Mr. Todas to hold my hand crossing High Street and Edwards Street, but coming back from Mr. Todas' I would have two streets to cross alone. So mom pulled the wagon but still had me accompany her to Mr. Todas'.
My real reward came while Mom and Mr. Todas talked. Mom loved long goodbyes, Dad said. Piled up over in a corner of his porch, next to a stuffed chair were magazines and books, Saturday Evening Post, Boy Scout Life, Life Magazine, and others. His back porch was more like an outdoor living room, a standing lamp for reading at night, potted plants set around , and a radio. Only Patty Mathew listened to a radio outside while sunbathing. I use to watch her with my cowboys from my lilac ranch
Saw my first Norman Rockwell and NC Wyeth paintings on his porch. He had prints pinned up on his porch. We had a painting of St. Joseph and one of the blessed Virgin in our living room. Seeing these pictures sparked my interest in drawing cowboys. Mom said maybe if I took to reading I might find more illustrations I'd like. Donald Duck and Peter Rabbit filled the pages of my books. At home that day I drew a rough drawing of John Wesley Hardin. Dad could not recognize that I had drawn a cowboy, only that he might have to pay for a library book if he couldn't get my fingerprints erased from the book. I wasn't supposed to touch my brother's books... Time for a real time out.
Memories of long ago, and not quite forgotten, come back while painting. This memory influenced my painting of Jordan posing for the tired gardener resting on a porch.
