Love this, Eliza, especially "At age three or four, I brought home a Christmas tree ornament I’d made at nursery school. It was a little clay bomb, a roundish turd, but I didn’t see it that way."
I think we all have some craft thing made in childhood that looks like a turd.
Took me straight back to those awkward chairs-in-a-circle, meet the extended 'blended' family gatherings! I love that is was the 'full frontal' that broke the ice.
My mother painted an enormous mural on a cinder block building that was her view from her desk at the city of Englewood. It was a job to put the four of us through college since my dad’s job at various papers reviewing music and theatre paid little. She paid her dues in years before she could retire and have a studio to really paint. And she did. In time the city demolished the cinder block building and the office building too. Erased but I remember it. The Sentinel paper covered her creation but I don’t think they noted its demise.
Love this, Eliza, especially "At age three or four, I brought home a Christmas tree ornament I’d made at nursery school. It was a little clay bomb, a roundish turd, but I didn’t see it that way."
I think we all have some craft thing made in childhood that looks like a turd.
Yes! And my mother cherished each of mine. :)
Took me straight back to those awkward chairs-in-a-circle, meet the extended 'blended' family gatherings! I love that is was the 'full frontal' that broke the ice.
Yes, not so much fun. But worth it for this moment, anyway.
This story is so wonderful and reminds me so much of the particular humor you shared with your dad. Very evocative and touching writing
Yep. Thank you, Anita
Great story--and so strange to think that the new owners will likely paint right over it...
I know. The painting is probably not a selling point at all. People probably look for a mirror…
Wonderful story, Eliza.
It must be strange to sell an apartment with a fresco in it – or to buy one! I hope the new owner, whoever they may be, appreciates it!
Me too!
OMG the mother-in-law asks the same question and the payoff for this reader was a good guffaw. This story HAD to be told.
Thanks, Jill. I fear forgetting these moments. (I definitely didn’t let my dad forget it.)
Astonishing! A signature story, so well recounted. Elated to see you. More sightings in store, I hope. Love, Verandah
Thank you, Verandah. It was such a wonderful evening and, yes, we must plan a visit!
My mother painted an enormous mural on a cinder block building that was her view from her desk at the city of Englewood. It was a job to put the four of us through college since my dad’s job at various papers reviewing music and theatre paid little. She paid her dues in years before she could retire and have a studio to really paint. And she did. In time the city demolished the cinder block building and the office building too. Erased but I remember it. The Sentinel paper covered her creation but I don’t think they noted its demise.
Thank you for sharing this, Elizabeth. I imagine that mural slowly peeling in the years before it came down. Powerful and painful
Great story!!! Thanks for sharing.
Thank you, Sonia
Such a great story -
Thank you, Kate.