Talking Out the Problems

Molly was my first adviser, a great listener and wise. Always agreeable. Sometimes she would doze off under my easel, or if there were no models she would curl up on the model's stand and arrange the pillows to her comfort. When there was a model, she would turn on the charm in hopes of a treat. She often inserted herself into the pose, curling up behind Jordan or replacing the book Kim just laid to rest. On breaks you would see her, tail wagging, waiting for that pinch from the model's sandwich. A slice of apple now and then was her reward for staying quiet during these sessions.

No models meant walks around town, and visits with fishermen. She often pointed out subjects for sketching and patiently waited while I sketched. Unlike Henry, she allowed petting. It was good for us to get out of the studio and breathe the fresh air. Colors always looked a bit fresher when I returned to the easel after those walks.

A cleaning of the palette and with fresh colors laid out, the background and foreground were taken on. Conversation with Molly would pick up, though usually it was one-sided, and she never argued over my ideas for the painting. Models sometimes questioned my sanity when I forgot I was painting a figure... I find it helpful to talk things out when I have questions about a painting and both Molly and Henry were good listeners.   

Downtown Aurora, Saturday Mornings

Summer Saturday mornings were like birthdays when my brother Michael took me along to turn his paper route money in at the Beacon News Building. I didn't often get to accompany him anywhere. Most days he simply disappeared. So when he asked if I wanted to go along with him it was a special treat. It really never mattered where he was taking me, I was just happy to be going along. Those trips with him are with me today.

Riding the bus in itself was a treat, and with my brother it was special. There was something about being in a big moving vehicle with seats facing both forwards and sideways. So different from sitting in the back seat of a car being told to behave.  Being able to reach up and pull a cord to stop the bus was a novelty. I watched my brother  drop a nickel into a glass coin collector and the bus driver nodded his approval.  I remember walking to a seat with the bus swaying as it began to move. Saying, “Hi,” to people from my brother's paper route was part of the fun in riding a bus. Michael always let me pick the seat so I could glue my face to the windows. Seeing all the different houses and people we passed by captured my attention as the bus rolled through the neighborhoods. The bus driver swore as he tried to get around Mr. Naggle and Bettie.

Bettie, his greying white horse, was sad looking I thought. Mr. Naggle went, calling out "Scissors sharpened!". Mom often had our knives sharpened by him. Dad always shook his head, puzzled. He had sharpening stones and a fine Sears powder grinder to take care of all our knives. Yet Mom still had Mr. Naggle sharpen some.  Us kids would run and get fallen apples from the backyard trees to give Bettie as Mr. Naggle pumped his sharpening wheel to a good fast spin.

A wedding at St. Nick's church slowed the bus again and brought more choice words from the driver. Michael told me to forget those words unless I wanted a taste of Ivory soap. Ivory soap was Mom's choice for cleaning up one's language. As the bus turned onto Fox Street I climbed up on the seat, ready to pull the stop cord. Mr Swanson smiled at me and told me to pull the cord for him. Mr. Swanson owned the shoe store where I got my Buster Brown shoes. He had an x-ray box in his store where you put your feet in to see how well your shoes fit. He smiled at me as he stepped off the bus.  

We got off at the next stop and walked across town to The Beacon building. Aurora's downtown was a busy place. People everywhere doing shopping, kids, and teens just walking around. Michael seemed to know a lot of girls. He was getting a lot of requests for the jukebox from passing girls. Mom and Dad ran the sock-hop at the KofC club and it was Michael who was in charge of the music.      

With the paper route money dropped off, it was to Cook's Music Store for 45 records for the jukebox. Mrs. Cook was president of the Wayne Art League, besides running the music store. She filled her store with art and music. There were both paintings and art books in her store. Unlike the Aurora Library, the art books at Cook's store had all the pages still in them. The library had removed pages from some art books and pages with nudes had red stamps all over the nudes. Mrs. Cook let me look through all the art books, even those with nudes. She explained the paintings both in the books and hanging on the wall, as my brother looked through the new 45’s.

For me, those trips with my brother were art lessons. Michael was the one who took me to the library and planted me among the art books. He told me to read those books, not just look at the pictures in them - but to read about the art and artists. Unlike the rest of the family, I was more into drawing than reading. When I attempted a drawing of an Indian, Michael planted me in among the books on Indians. The real reason for these trips to the library was to get me to read more and understand I could learn things from books. Also, I was there to help carry books home.