Sunday Drive-Rumble Seat

Sunday Drive
Rumble Seat
8.5" x 11"
pencil
Here it is, another Sunday afternoon after a very exciting Aggie football game. All those overtimes! I didn't know that could be done. Wish I could have been there, but ticket prices are just too high now, so we have to settle for tv. And, we miss my favorite part of the game-the band.
Today's picture is a drawing of my family going somewhere-perhaps to see my mother's parents in Navarro county or a day trip to drive around Waco, where my parents met.
Daddy had a Ford coupe with a rumble seat when we were small. The interior was big enough for two adults and, maybe a small person in the middle. But, the long gear shift was on the floor in front of that space, so it made it difficult for anyone with legs that would hang below the seat to sit there. It worked to put my sister in the middle, when she was a baby. Or Mama would hold her.
But, when she got big enough, she moved to the rumble seat with me. We had quilts back there to wrap up in when the wind or cold got to be too much.
Our long hair would whip in the wind, even if Mama braided it. The wind would soon pull it loose. Sometimes, my sister would laugh at it. I just tried to hold my hair so it wouldn't hit in my eyes and mouth. We could duck down so the wind wouldn't hit us as much, but it still would whip around in the rumble seat. And, too, we couldn't see outside that way. All we could see inside the rumble seat were Daddy's tools scattered and the water jug he carried, in case someone needed a drink during the trip. Sometimes there were sacks of groceries , or a suitcase, if he was going to leave us at our other grandparents' home on the farm for a visit. Mama kept her purse with her for quick lipstick touch ups .
I showed Daddy in his favorite driving position, with his hat on, wearing kahkis, (on Suday, he usually wore his suit, unless he was going out to the pasture) and his arm out the window. No matter how cold it got, Daddy wanted the window opened at least a little crack. He said he needed it open to keep him awake. But the wind would blow right to the back seat and through the car. Heaters were not much good except in the front seat, and unless one had their legs right beside the heater. So, we had quilts to use throughout the car. If it was really cold, Daddy would bring his wool blanket and a wool long men's coat.
Mama is shown with her elbow resting on the edge of the side window.
There were no seatbelts in cars, so we could climb back and forth over the seat, when we rode in the sedan, crawl around, etc., until Daddy had his fill of that. Then he would fuss at us and we would be still for a while. We couldn't very well do that in the rumble seat, or we would fall out. Sometimes, we could sit in his lap and "help him drive", or stand on the seat beside him and see where we were going along the highway. I think I started learning to drive as soon as I could sit up and touch the steering wheel.
If the weather got really cold suddenly, or it rained, or hailed, we would move inside the cab. Mama would hold my sister, and I would curl up, with my legs on the seat, between my parents. If it was cold and bad when we started our trip, Daddy drove the sedan. We got to sit in the back seat, then.
One time, we were returning from Navarro county when it got really stormy. Mama was scared of storms and she begged Daddy to pull over. He finally did at the edge of a small town where there was a cotton gin. Since it was not that season, the gin was not being used. He pulled up to the parking area, and it began to hail. As the hail started falling heavily, Daddy pulled inside the gin. (I was more scared of getting in trouble for being in a gin than I was of the hail, and I started crying. I wondered if we were going to die, or would survive and be sent to jail for being in a gin that wasn't our's.) And Mama was crying in fear of the storm.
The sound of the hail on the gin, which was made of tin, was horrible, and we were ready to leave, even if it was hailing outside. But, we stayed until it let up. We drove out slowly, to green skies that changed to blue. I remember it being cold outside and we had to wrap up in blankets. We were all composed once more, knowing we had survived, but we completed the drive home in silence, inside the cab.
There were things to entertain us on our many drives, although we didn't have games, radio, CDplayers, laptops, or tv. All along the roads, there were the surprise signs that advertised Burma Shave. They were spaced out so that you didn't get the joke all at one time. We would read one, then wait for the next phrase, and so on for several signs. The last one always said Burma Shave.
Another thing that entertained us was for Daddy to blow his horn under every overpass. Everyone in the car had to put one hand on the ceiling of the car and make a wish. No one could talk. We had to stay that way until someone slipped and said something. The person who talked would not get their wish. It sure kept noisey kids quiet for a long while!
If we were going to Waco, we looked over the hills for the distant signs of the city. The tallest building was the Amicable building-a tall white building for an insurance company that was downtown and close to the Brazos River. We had a family tradition that the last one to spot the Amicable Building had to treat everyone else. Some people tried to lie and say they had seen it, when they really hadn't, in order to not have to buy everyone in the car a Coke or ice cream when we reached Waco. I carefully counted my change, worrying that my money would not be enough to treat everyone. Usually, a grown-up had to treat. I think they worked it that way because most of the kids didn't have but a few cents, or a dollar, if we were in a group going shopping.
There was a time when buzzards hitting windshields was a problem. A buzzard flying into a windshield could wreck a car, or even kill people. So, if a buzzard flew near, the car swerved and everyone ducked. We didn't have such an accident ourselves, fortunately. But, windshiled glass was not safety glass then, so it was a danger. I think buzzards have gotten smarter, now, as you don't see them on the highways often anymore. Occasionally they are on the side, after roadkill, but they usually circle off in the fields and definitely away from the freeways. We did count buzzards. There was a little rhyme that started "one for sorrow, two for joy, three for letter, four for boy..." that we would say. We always hoped to see at least two buzzards. If you only saw one buzzard, you had to watch it until it flapped its wings to avoid having sorrow or something bad happening.
We watched for trains, convoys of Army trucks and Jeeps, and landmarks. In those days, I wasn't looking for pictures to draw, as I do now.
We tried to teach counting by counting the telephone poles, or how many of one thing we would see, like how many red trucks, or Blue Plymouths might be on the highway before we got to a town. That was too much like math, to me, but we gave in and reluctantly participated in order for my little sister to learn counting, or, if we had a friend with us, it was something to do in the way of a game to entertain us. I got bored with it really fast and was ready to quit those games.
There were also certain landmarks that we relied on seeing with each trip.
There was a gas station that still had the gas pumps with glass on top, in which the gas was visible.
Near cities, there were tourist courts, with all their cozy little cabins.
There was a tree near a wide bridge that crossed a creek that often flooded. This was "Grandpa's Tree". Sometimes we stopped there, just south of Marlin. Trips seemed to take a long time, and we needed several rest stops. "Grandpa's Tree" was one of those places. It was named this because my great-grandfather always wanted to stop there. And, at that rest stop, they would have refreshments or a picnic and walk around a bit. I think that tree is finally gone, now. It was bulldozed to make a wider highway and bigger bridge. I hate to see that. I'm sure that they began stopping there in 1867, when he first came to Texas. After a little rest stop, we would continue across that long bridge. There were times when we had to turn around and go home because these bridges were covered with water.
In other years, there was drought and the creeks were dried up. But, the owners of that land planted something there for the cattle to feed on, and it was almost always bright green in the valley along the creek and under the bridge.
I recall another time when there were fears of Anthrax and herds of cattle were being killed. The cattle were shot, piled up, then burned. We worried that the Anthrax might spread, even on the smoke, and drift into areas where there were people and would infect humans in a disasterous epidemic. I can remember, along our drive, seeing those huge mounds of dead cattle, with smoke coming up from them, in that lush creek area, and hearing sounds of gun shots in the distance. Daddy had such a pained look on his face as he drove. I think they had already shot the cattle they needed to shoot, but I didn't have to see it.
And I felt anxiety about death and sorrow for the poor old cows. I was glad to get past there and into the city so we could look at other things. Maybe this visit, we could go to a movie, or get a treat. Usually, that didn't happen, though.
As we left my hometown, Daddy would always tell about keeping your car in good condition, with everything working properly. At the creek on the north end of town, he would tell, every trip, about a time when he and my mother were leaving town and a car had a wreck, at that very spot. There was a Mexican family in the car. The car caught on fire. Daddy stopped, along with some other men. They couldn't get the people out because the doors were wired together with coat hangers. The door handles didn't work, so they had wrapped coat hangers around the door posts to hold the doors together as they drove. The tops of the cars were made of thick cloth that looked like metal. Daddy got on top of the car and tried to pull people out. He said that he had the hand of a little girl, who was my age, and he started to pull her up. Her arm came off and she fell back into the fire. He said that all those people burned to death because they couldn't get to them. He had a pained look on his face when he told that story. He said that it really bothered him. And, he told the story almost every time he passed that spot.
Daddy had another car, a Ford sedan, that he liked to start with the crank. You could also start it inside, with a starter button, but he liked using the crank, or even to have Mama crank the car. She didn't like that very much. When he wasn't around, she used the starter button
Daddy loved cars. He loved to work on them and to drive. He never got rid of a car, until he traded in my first car. His dad, brother, and other family members had all kinds of cars, rusting away, in a pasture behind Grandpa's house. When they got a new car, they just took the old one to the pasture. There was even part of a Stutz Bearcat that had belonged to my great-aunt when she was young, in the pasture. Most of it had rotted or rusted away, but I remember the rounded little windshield and the steering wheel, and coils from the seats, pieces of wooden spokes that had been the wheels. There was quite an assortment to get rid of after they died and someone else moved onto the land.
One car that he liked to tell about was the sedan that he had when he was courting Mama. His car looked just like one that Bonnie and Clyde drove. He said that he was even chased a few times by police who mistook him for the infamous couple. That scared Mama to death. He got rid of that car, at Mama's insistance. The gang did go to that area some, so everyone was on edge.
In the drawing above, "Sunday Drive", I used my favorite drawing pencil, a #314 Draughting pencil. I like the effects that you can get with one pencil. They are hard to find in stores, now, though. The turqoise drawing pencils are good, but you have to use so many different pencils to get the effects needed. The #314 is very smooth and never scratchy.
I know that my rumble seat is a little off, but I wanted to tilt it a little so that the viewer can see inside the area a little, instead of just seeing the tops of our heads over the back end of the car.
Hope you get to have a nice Sunday afternoon drive today, without your hair blowing in your face!
And, I hope that you are enjoying my blog and will share it with others who might be interested. I have added some more links on the sidebar. These are sites I have found as I have searched for information and help with Macular Degeneration. In some of those sites, there are also a little art work and some writing by people who have experienced AMD.
As a note on the stork sites, while the storks are migrating for winter in Africa, and some of the webcams or sites are not working, there are still many pictures and much information online to enjoy. And, when the storks return, this will be an easy way to find the links to the webcams and sites to watch them as they nest in the spring. It's kind of sad to see those empty nests now. But, they will be back, if nothing happens to them between now and that time.
Be sure to check out the Artists and Authors links, and Interesting Sites on my page.
And let me know if you see something that you are interested in. I welcome your comments and support.

Storks After Loss

Looking For Family

8.5" x 11"

Pencil

There was a time during the summer, when, as we watched the storks in Poland via webcams, in one nest, the babies began to die, and one remaining egg didn't hatch. The last surviving baby was removed in an effort to save it, but, it, too, died shortly. There was a fungus that was the culprit, so the nest was treated.

The parents flew away, and it was not known if the storks would return.

Eventually, one lone stork returned. He (I just assume it was the male, since I can't tell them apart), let himself down onto the nest and looked around as if wondering, "Where is my family?"

The other stork did return after a while, although there were no more babies to care for. Like the other nests, the adults did leave on their migration to winter in Africa.

Too Much Wind

8.5" x 11"

Pencil

The lone stork, possibly the Papa, appeared to be feeling the loss of his family. For a while, he just stood in the nest, pacing a little, as if looking for any signs of the other adult stork and the babies. After all, he had spent quite a few nights, braving the wind and the rain, standing on one foot for long periods of time, turning the eggs, and all the other duties that storks have to do. Now, where had the others gone?

One night, he returned to the nest, looked around it, and the wind picked up. He spread his wings out and jumped up and down, as if letting all his anger loose at the wind. "Too much wind!" It seemed as if he might shout it, if he could. But, having no voice to shout, or words to say, all he could do was to just jump up and down and face that wind, clatter his beak at it, and try to make it stop. He seemed to have had about all the difficulties that he could take and was about ready to explode.

As I observed the storks, they seemed to be not only graceful and strong, but also they exhibited emotions and expressions. I could see joy, love, sorrow, grief, anger, desperation, tiredness, energy in their faces and in their actions.

And, as I drew them, for once, my animal drawings didn't come out to look like cartoon characters. I was pleased with that, and with the studies I was able to do as quick sketches.

Sometimes, thebirds seemed to stay still, holding a pose, and looking at me, as if to say, "Draw me like this." Other times, they were quite active but showed very interesting poses.

I probably did more drawings from this particular nest because it wasn't a site where I could save a picture, if I found the pose interesting. Also, there was such amazment that those thin birds, could withstand the wind, rain, cold and hot temperatures, perched way up high-even standing on one leg, at times in what appeared to be high wind. And, in this nest, there was such anxiety and sadness over the illness and loss of the babies that we had all waited for.

While such may be the ways of nature, it is still sad to see those things happen to living things. When the birds would pant in their nests, I felt so bad that I couldn't do anything for them.

I couldn't do anything for them, but I could draw them and other people can now observe what I saw. And, maybe, that will increase some awareness and efforts at preservation.

I just read a news item today about the possibility that there will be no more polar bears in the years to come. I love to watch polar bears, too. They remind me of Olde English Sheepdogs, which are also a lot of fun to watch. I hope that they can survive, along with many other species, and make a comeback like alligators and wolves are doing. We must leave them space and care for even the smallest of creatures. Just look at those little faces, and bodies. How could we not want to help them!

You can enjoy more about storks on the sidebar of my page under Stork Sites. While some of the webcams have shut down, for now, as the storks are going to winter in Africa, or just have a drawing or sign where a live picture used to be, there are still some sites that have photos, galleries, forums, and information about storks. There is even one that has tracking information on some storks. And, next spring, when the storks return, the links to the webcams should be working, and you can find the links to them in one place on my blog. Then you, too, can watch a stork family grow. I feel like I have learned quite a bit, and have been somewhat productive in making these drawings. I plan to do more.

The webcams that I have been watching are in Poland and Germany.

Be sure and check out the other sites I have on the sidebar of my page. There are Artists and Authors, Interesting Sites, and Eye Sites, besides the Stork Sites section.

Thank you for reading and for your comments and support. I do welcome inquiries. Please share my sites with anyone who you think might be interested.

Migration

Twilight Greeting
8.5" x 11''
pencil
Last May, I learned about several webcams that showed nesting storks in Poland and Germany through one of my genealogy groups. We had some discussions, and some of us were fascinated as we watched these graceful birds, night and day. Not only did I learn new things, but I became interested in doing quick sketches of the birds as they went about the business of nesting and raising their new families. Their emotions seemed to come through the camera to the screen, and, sometimes, it even seemed as if they would pose for me as I drew.
We went through joy as the eggs hatched and the babies appeared, and suffered loss when the babies didn't make it. One whole nest of babies didn't survive. It was terrible to watch the babies pant and struggle to breathe, before they died. One last baby from that nest was taken away, in hopes they could save it, but it, too, died shortly. How sad it was to see that empty nest, and to watch the parents as they left, then returned to the empty nest.
One bird, possibly the male (I never could tell them apart), returned to the nest and looked lost. As winds picked up, he jumped in the air, flapping his wings and looking like he was really angry.
Babies in the other nests grew, tested their wings, flying some, walking around some, and in a short time, were ready for their first migration to Africa.
Now, when I go to those websites, they are empty. Someone on the list explained that the baby birds left early for their winter migration this year. This might indicate that there will be an early, cold winter.
I've been thinking that we might also have a cold, early winter this year, here in Texas. The cats' fur has turned darker, and it's longer and thicker. Since we have had so much rain, and lower temperatures, maybe we will have a real winter this year. And, since we had rain on the first day of school, the year might also be wet.
The birds gave us so much pleasure, that I'm going to really miss being able to watch them. I hope that they will have a safe trip, and winter, and will return to the nests in the spring.
As I searched the sites today, and looked at blank pictures, empty nests, or even words that I can't read, ( I don't read Polish or German), I thought it might be nice to share some of the sketches I did. I like the way they came out, rather loose and free.
The above picture, "Twilight Greeting", shows one couple, as they greeted each other. One had just returned to the nest while the other sat on the eggs. From what I have read, they don't have voices, as we know them, but they do "talk" by throwing their heads back, and clattering their bills together, while making noises back deep in their throats.
I'm going to add some links to the sidebar of my page. These are some of the places that I have been enjoying the storks, and I thought that, while the birds are now gone, there are still pictures in the galleries and information available. When the birds return next spring, the links will be there for visitors to enjoy. These will be listed under Stork Sites.
My youngest grandson has been enjoying the stork sites with me and he, obviously, noticed that I was drawing, and talking about, storks. He came into my room one day, telling me that he saw a stork in a tree on the street behind us. He was excited and drew a picture of it. He thought it was a black stork, but I told him that I don't think we have storks in this area. It might have been a crane, or a heron. He said it was in a tree. Another day, he saw it walking in the street. He did a nice drawing, I thought.
Also look for a new section on my blog called Eye Sites, with links to some websites that have information about Macular Degeneration.
Thank you for reading and sharing. I do welcome inquiries and comments

What Are You Going To Wear Tomorrow?

What Are You Going To Wear Tomorrow?

8.5" x 11"

pencil

For quite some years, now, we have been hearing young people explain that they want to dress like they do, in order to express themselves. That this lets them be individuals. And, even in the most conservative places, there will be at least one student, who will dress themselves in the strangest of hair and clothing styles, which astonishes the older generation.

However, if you look around, those expressions are not at all different, but are reflections of what is in style in other locales, or in the media. Even those with the "original" styles, are dressing just like someone else. Most likely, they wouldn't dress that way, if someone else was not already dressing in that manner.

In my drawing today, "What Are You Going To Wear Tomorrow?", I have shown that question being asked over our telephone, in the house where I grew up. We had a telephone on the wall in the small hall, between my parents' bedroom, and the linen closet. There were two more doors in that little hall-one to the bathroom and one to the the bed room that my sister and I shared.

There was a crank on one side of the wooden box that was our telephone, bells on the front with a little shelf below for writing, a metal piece for talking into, and a cradle on one side where the receiver rested, when we weren't talking.

We could turn the crank, stand on tip toes, and ask "Central" (the lady who ran the telephone office and kept the switchboard, which was in her house) to ring the person we wanted to talk to. Sometimes, Central would tell us that the person was somewhere else, and move our call to that place. Or they would tell us what the person was doing, if they had company, or were outside that time of day. In later years, we were encouraged to tell Central the phone number we wanted.

"Central, give me 161, please." or "Central, give me 1, please."

If there was a fire, and we heard the fire whistle at the City Hall blow, we could call Central, and she would tell where the fire was. We could also ask her what she had heard about most any topic of interest.

Central was a sweet lady, who had, with her husband, lived in a downstairs apartment from us, in my great-grandfather's house, when I was small. That was before she became the town telephone operator.

We didn't have a phone in our new house, or the old apartment, either. Times were hard, and everyone tried to save. Salaries were really small, too.

Finally, Daddy got a phone, and we called everyone we knew who had a phone.

As a young school student, we called each other to get help with homework, or an assignment that we missed. And, each evening, we had to make the rounds of calling each other to see what everyone else was going to wear the next day. We needed to fit in, and not wear things that the rest of the students were not wearing. Jeans or pants for girls were not allowed at school (except when it was really cold and the heat was not working on the top floors of the school) . There was a time, when the rules were relaxed a little, and we could wear jeans to class on Friday or pep rally day. And, for a while, we could wear overalls, just with special permission. Some of the boys showed up with Mohawk haircuts, much to the dismay of all the teachers. The boys were giggling, and we thought that was just awful to look like that. They weren't going to be allowed to play football with their hair like it was. So, other boys got Mohawks too. Everyone was shocked at such behavior.

I always wanted red hair, and my mother wouldn't let me put a rinse or dye on my hair. So, I went to the drugstore and bought a box of red rinse for my hair. I locked myself in the bathroom and made my hair red. My mother was upset, and I thought I had ruined my life. I was now a loose woman with dyed hair. I went to school like that, wearing my overalls, and waited for the compliments, or for some teacher to fuss at me for doing that to my hair. The band even marched in the football game that night. I was sure to get a lot of attention with my beautiful red hair!

No one said a word about my hair. I even told some people what I had done and it didn't get their attention. I don't think it stood out at all because my hair did look red in the sun, anyway. It wasn't a bright red, but looked a lot like it always did. But, I was sure that I had done something terrible, and permanent.

The rinse came out with shampoo, and, years later, I was told that I would have to have the color removed from my hair before I could get the lighter colors that I wanted. I never wanted to do that. But I did use peroxide on it when I was in college, and tried to do the red thing again after I had children. It wasn't that different from the natural color.

We pretty well stuck to the accepted styles, in our school years, mainly with fashions that came from movies or movie magazines. And, whatever the leaders in school wore, we wanted to wear the same thing. We wanted to fit in, not be different.

Some styles dictated that our skirts had to be exactly 2 1/2 inches above the top of our roll- over socks. The next year, skirts were shortened (shockingly!) so that there were 3 inches between the skirt and the top of the socks. Those things were not easy to accomplish, when socks kept sliding down. so, we devised using rubber bands to hold up our socks. (Not so good for circulation.)

We might wear a white peasant blouse with a circle skirt and ballerina slippers, and natural lipstick. Or we might all decide to wear a pencil slim skirt, a white shirt with turned up collar, pearls and pearl earbobs, rolled-over white socks with penny loafers. We had other outfits, too, of course, but those are just a couple of examples. No matter what, however, we had to call each other and see what everyone else was wearing.

Some older girls used a cake of brown mascara in a little case, spit on it, then used the little brush to apply the mascara to their eyebrows and eyelashes. Of course, we had to wait until we got to school for those things, and had to remove it before we went home. Now I know that we shouldn't have done that, but that is what people did at the time. One girl, who wanted to be an airline stewardess, even had a compact with pancake makeup in it, that she applied in the restroom at school, while we all watched. (I couldn't tell any difference.) But, we thought that this was a very grown up, and risque, thing to do. Later, about time for graduation, some girls wore a little face powder, for special occasions. There was red lipstick for Sunday and for dress up, but only natural for every day.

In the drawing above, I have shown the hall telephone, as I tried to find out what to wear the next day. My little sister liked to come in the hall, especially while I was on the phone with my friends-even if I closed all the doors to the hall.

That phone was hung just at the right height to catch her head as she ran through the hall. She would get a nice "goose egg" on her head after she ran into the corner of the telephone. At least, the phone was well built and sturdy.

I can still spend hours in the closet, trying to decide what to wear. Not that I have that many clothes, I just try to decide what is comfortable, appropriate, and looks nice. I keep changing my mind. It would be nice to be able to call a classmate and find out what everyone would be wearing, so we could all match. I would certainly save a lot of time.

"What Are You Wearing Tomorrow?" is a sketch done with pencil. I have thoughts of reworking this as a pen and ink drawing, or a painting in watercolor or oil.

Thanks for reading, and for sharing my blog with others who might be interested. I welcome your comments and your inquiries. Thanks for your support. It helps to know that others are reading and enjoying my blog. Maybe it has stirred a memory for you, or brought a chuckle, or, perhaps, you might have learned something.

Be sure to visit the links that I have added to the side of my page.

There are more things to come.

Going To School

Going To School
8.5" x 11"
pencil
Today is the first time, that I can remember, in all my years, that students have had to go to school on Labor Day. The university, college, and public schools are all having classes today. I was so surprised, I had not thought of my grandson having to go to school today, and had thought about what we could do for a holiday. The oldest one has to work, so it is turning out to be just another day for us.
I surely would have needed a peach tree switch to get me to go to school on a day that has always been a holiday.
In all my life, I never had to go to school on my birthday, after Christmas holidays. One year, as a teacher, I had to go for teacher workday that day, and I was not a happy camper, at all. I was a grouch all day. Not that I did that much to celebrate. It was just the idea that this was always my last day of freedom before school started again for the new year.
I guess that school started a little later, this year, and they may have fewer days off, or something. Since I am no longer teaching, and don't have a vote on the school calendar, I don't know what the reasoning was.
As a teacher, I always needed the extra days in the Labor Day weekend, to work on my classroom, plan for the year, make out seating charts, order supplies, make out things like gradebook and lesson plan book, and make prepartions to teach. At one time, we didn't start school until after Labor Day. Those days of starting in early August were just too much. It was too hot and people were uncomfortable and not ready to be cooped up inside classrooms.
I don't remember ever participating in any Labor Day celebrations, like the ones that we see on tv and in movies. In fact, I don't recall being in a place where any celebrations were held. Offices, stores and businesses closed, as did libraries and schools, but there were never picnics, speeches, games, or gatherings. Sometimes families barbequed or had picnics, went to the swimming pool at the country club or played golf, but there was nothing for groups or the community.
In more recent years, the Jerry Lewis MDA telethon became a big thing to watch on tv, complete with special meals or tv dinners, served on tv trays.
In the drawing above, I showed the way that I often went off to school in the morning. Mama had to follow me with a switch across the porch, then down the little hill in our yard, and out into the street. She usually didn't have to follow me much further than the curb, unless I knew that I had work that was due and not finished, had a test, or someone was sure to beat me up after school.
Poochie, our black dog with a fluffy, curley tail, followed me some. She was really more attentive to my little sister and would return home to follow my sister around all day. When my sister started school, Poochie went with her. I think she even went inside the room a time or two. Usually, she just sat at the windows, watching inside the basement room until my sister came out. Then she followed my sister home. We said that she was like Mary and her little lamb, that followed her to school one day.
We only lived about a half block from the big school, which is now the town high school. For us, it was all grades. Elementary school, restrooms, Ag, Homemaking, and the cafeteria were in the basement. Middle school, the auditorium, choir room, cloak room, and the offices were on the second floor. And the third floor was high school and the library. People didn't ask what grade or level you were in, but instead, asked what floor you were on in school. I always wondered where people went after they finished all the floors. If someone had to go to the restroom, they asked to go to the basement. In the lower grades, we had to show, with our fingers, what we needed to go to the restoom for. I was too embarrassed, so I just waited until I got home in the afternoon, no matter what!
In the 1940s and '50s, we still had flights of airplanes that flew over in formation. The sound of the motors was so relaxing, I would almost fall asleep. I still do, when I hear those engines in a movie. I have shown one of these formations in my sketch. Later, there were frequent flights of trainers going between Waco and Bryan and, still later, jets started to fly over.
Another sound was the cooing of the Mourning Doves in the park, that carried over our neighborhood, especially in the early morning. Such a peaceful sound.
There were empty lots on each side of the street, with houses across the street and past my house on the way to town. The lots to the right side in my sketch, were filled with Indian Paintbrushes in the spring. There was a path cut through there, where kids would go to and from school, from the next streets over. One of our dogs loved peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We would make sandwiches for the dog, who would eat part of it, then bury the rest of it in the empty lot across the alley from our house. Several houses have been built there, so the wildflowers and the path are long gone.
In the picture above, I am walking with my books, head down, one arm out, as I balance while walking on the curb. Something that I often did, and it took me longer to get anywhere that way. "Don't dawdle!" my mother would tell me, as I drug my feet or walked balancing on the curb.
A little earlier, the street would have been filled with cars, kids on bicycles, or walking to school. I was often the last one there.
Interestingly, I was not the first one out of the building to go home each day. I wanted to stay as long as I could with friends, some days, or join my friends and classmates in some kind of games or practice. Some days, I was trying to avoid being hit by a girl who waited for me and gave me black eyes and bloody noses. And, sometimes, I was walking , slowly, toward town, with my boyfriend.
And then there were the special days, in high school, when I got to drive the car, all that whole half block from my house to the school! Those days, I was ready to go to school early, so that people could see me driving the car. We had a 1948 Ford four door, with a speaker in the back for the radio, and a 1948 Willys Jeepster, convertable. Daddy had his pickup that he loved to drive, so there were cars for me to use.
Of course, every time I took the car, without asking him, or if he said "no" that day, I ran into trouble. Flat tires, out of gas, ran into a ditch and couldn't get out, and even ran over the big rocks that were at the entrance to the park and got the car hung. (That was my great-aunt's Nash, that time. Her husband had told her to not let me drive their new car, but she was determined to teach me to drive. So, we took the car for a ride in the afternoon. The park had a circular drive around the inside, and that was one place we practiced. But, coming out, I didn't turn short enough and ran over a big rock. The car was hung. And my great-aunt had to call her husband to come get the car unstuck. He was not happy. But she was not bothered.
Instead, she told me about when she and her sisters-in-law were learning to drive, in the early 1900s. They drove a car out into the country, but couldn't figure out how to shift gears correctly. They ended up backing the car all the way back to town. ) Her husband never said more about the car. I think I was more upset than anyone. The car was not damaged.
As for the switch, or hairbrush, I am convinced that I would not have done much if I had not been afraid not to do what I was supposed to do. Today, a lot of kids don't seem to have fear of anything, so they do what they please at school, at home, or anywhere.
I hope that, if you had to go to school or work today, you didn't have to have someone chase you with a switch! And, if you are observing Labor Day, I hope that you are having a good time, and making memories.
"Going To School" is a pencil drawing of one of my memories.
I do welcome your comments and inquiries. Be sure to look at the links under Authors and Artists, and Interesting sites. Thank you for reading, and sharing. If you haven't joined my Google Group, please join. There, I have posted some of my watercolors, and I send out an e-mail to members of the group when I update my blog.
Happy Labor Day.

Drawing People

Drawing People
Gesture Drawing
8.5" x 13"
Ink
Today's artwork is a cartoon I did on gesture drawing. I submitted it to "The Artist's" magazine but got one of those well-known to writers and artists, rejection slips. They said they didn't feel it would generate enough interest. So, here, for your enjoyment, is my cartoon on gesture drawing.
While I can draw in the cartoon style, I just can't think of many things that are funny or would make a good cartoon.
At the time that I did this cartoon, I was doing a cartoon strip for the local newspaper each week. "The Calvert General Store" was based around daily life in the town and my grandfather's dry goods store. I was also teaching art and taking night classes in figure drawing at Texas A&M University.
One day, in my junior high school class, I was going to demonstrate, then have my students do, some gesture, then contour drawing, and other exercises that we did in my university class. As we got our paper passed out, roll checked, and prepared to start class, two maintainance men came in my room to check on the large overhead gas heater in my room. Instead of climbing ladders to work on the heater, they relaxed against the window sill under the heater. I don't know if they were enjoying my class or what, but they spent a lot of that day and the next, leaning on the window sill. I never did see them do anything to that heater. Maybe they worked on it after we left the room, or maybe they were just looking for a place to hang out.
Being a rather flexible teacher, I took advantage of the two "models" in the room. I sketched them as gesture drawings, then had my students do some gesture drawing using each other as models. Then they went on to do contour, cross contour, positive and negative drawings, and then we moved on to draw things like the chairs in the room, and the chair with a person posing with the chair.
Later, I put the gesture drawing on paper the size I used for my cartoon strip, inked it , and added the Life Drawing Lab in the background, where people are contour drawings, using a gesture person as a model.
My "models" became gesture people, in a gesture world, going to a gesture art school, and struggling with having to draw real people. After all, they don't see realistic people, only more people like themselves-gesture people and contour people. They don't have anything to base a real person on, since that is not what they are exposed to. So, that would make it difficult for them to draw realistically.
Would the person who is having trouble drawing people even fail his class because he can't get the hang of drawing people? Would he struggle, practice, get more help, or just give up and turn to doing still life or landscapes, leaving the difficult people out of his work? Would more observation or maturity help him? Maybe he is just not yet ready to see people realistically.
I told my students that, with these loose, "stick" drawings, I could observe enough, and have the pose down, so that I could go back and do a more realistic picture of the models, later.
For those of you who may not have worked with gesture drawings, they just basically help the artist to get a pose down, fast. It's a stick figure that bends and moves like a person, and can even be done using one line without lifting the drawing instrument.
I try to get the angle of the head, first, with a lot of loose lines. (The more, lightly drawn lines that you have, in this type of drawing, the better chance you have of getting one that is right, or where you need it to be later.) Then I add the main stick that will be the backbone and neck, and add the shoulders and hips with a line that shows their slant. Then I add legs, and arms, hands and feet, with loose, squiggley lines. If I think I need to add extras, such as the cap and portfolio (it was actually a clipboard) in this cartoon, I will add those as sort of a note to myself.
They don't have to be just people. They can be animals, objects, even landscapes.
I often took a clipboard with paper, and a pen or pencil, with me when I had to be on duty or attend pep rallies or meetings, and enjoyed doing gesture drawings while action was taking place. It was fun to do these at the pep rallies and programs, and football or basketball games, to the rhythm of the cheers, the band playing, or the game itself. It forces you to work fast, and to be more observant. Especially if you want to develop the drawings into something more finished later.
My hand lettering is not always perfect in my cartoons, but, now, that can be done with computers. I've done a few cartoons recently using computer lettering, that I cut and paste. I don't have the program needed to do cartooning on computers.
This drawing is in India Ink on acid free Strathmore drawing paper.
Sometimes, I like those free first drawings more than those that I spend a long time on. Once I start reworking those first expressions, they just lose something, I think. The llines are different and I just can't get that feeling back.
I also tend to try to finish things by working straight through. If I stop to do something else, and go back to it, you can just tell that the new part is different. I lose that feeling that I first had. I've been known to work straight through, night and day, for several days, to finish a painting or sculpture. I'm trying not to do that, though, because my legs are all swollen and numb when I work that way. But, the time flies and I really don't notice what is happening around me, as long as I am working. I've always been sort of a night owl, too, and like to work all night. I couldn't do that and teach, and now, with my eye problems, I have noticed that I need to rest my eyes. I get to the point where I can't see enough to work, so I have to give up and go to bed. Daylight seems to be better to work in, at this stage of my life, though I do turn on several lamps and go on and work if I am doing something when night falls.
Hope you enjoyed this one, and will share with others. Thanks for reading and I hope you will check back again. If you want to be notified when I add something new, please join my Google group. There is a link in the sidebar that you can just click on to go to my group and see more of my art work. Let me know if you see anything of interest to you. I do appreciate your comments, and your interest in my work.

Dancing at the Tropicana

Dancing at the Tropicana

Austin, Texas

8.5" x 11"

pencil

In an earlier post, I mentioned that Saturday just didn't seem like Saturday without seeing a good, old cowboy movie. Well, on the same note, Saturday night, just doesn't seem like Saturday night, without a date to go out to eat and dancing. That doesn't happen anymore, but those were some good memories.

In the sketch above, I showed a memory of one Saturday night in the 1950s when I visited my friend from high school, Kathryn, who was a student at the University of Texas. I was a student at Sam Houston State Teachers College(now University) in Huntsville. I took the bus and visited with her for the weekend. Those were memorable visits, and were always fun.

The University was so much larger and, of course, the city of Austin was much larger than Huntsville, too. There wasn't a whole lot to do in Huntsville. There were movies, a drive in, and a couple of restaurants. But, the county was dry, so no nightclubs-or drinking. If we wanted to dance, we only had the Student Union building on campus; a little room built onto the back of a trolly car/diner (Mr. Ben's) , with an old jukebox; or we could drive out to State Lake, or drive across the river to a couple of nightclubs. Not everyone had cars, so we spent a lot of time hanging out in the SUB at the dance floor. I know I spent more time there than I did in class, once I figured out that there was no one there to chase me to class with a switch like my mother had done! And, no one cared if you went or not, for the most part, to many classes. You might get a visit to the dean's office if you missed too many of some classes, or you might get dropped from the class, or flunk, but no one was going to yell, scream, drag you there, or follow you with a peach tree switch..

Sam Houston and Texas' colors were the same, orange and white, so my SHSTC clothes let me fit in with the UT styles. I could sit in on games with the other students, in my orange felt circle skirt and my white sweater and angora collar, and fit right in.

Sometimes, we would go on campus, sometimes we would go to the big football game, and usually we would double date and go to eat and go dancing.

Keep in mind that I was 16 when I went away to college. Most people were 18. But, I loved going dancing, anywhere, even better than eating.

This particular time, the boy I usually went with, couldn't come, so another boy came with my friend's date. They were Aggies, and that made the dates particularly outstanding. We always wanted them to wear their uniforms, with their senior boots and all, but they were glad to not have to wear them and usually showed up with slacks, sports coats and ties. Back in those days, A&M was an all male, basically military university. Almost everyone was in the corps. And they sure looked good in those uniforms! Even the most homely boy looked good in one of those Aggie uniforms and was sought after as a date .

We had met this group of boys when a small group of students from the A&M Methodist church came to our small town church nearby to meet with the MYF group. And several people started dating. We were about to go off to college, they were going to be seniors.

I wasn't crazy in love with my usual date, but he was nice, smart, and he was an Aggie, and a senior, after all. And we did have a nice time on dates.

Well, this time, I did fall head over heels for this new date. I still call him "the cutest little Aggie you ever saw"! And, to make things even better, not only was he a senior, and cute, but he was also in that wonderful Aggie band.

We went out to eat, which was something that I was relieved when that part of the date was over. I had not gone out to eat much, and, of course, I didn't want to order something that would be too expensive for the students to have to pay for. And, I was a very picky eater. Kathryn had told me that breaded veal cutlets was a pretty safe bet, and not so expensive. So, that's what I ordered almost every time I went out. That, or chicken fried steak. I worried that my manners may not be good enough or that I would make some kind of big mistake while we were eating. It was always delicious and, if I remember correctly, we would get food on a platter, for about $1.50, or maybe even less. And a Coke for 5 cents. ( I always hoped that he would eventually ask me out enough to the point where he would order a Coke with two straws for us, but things never progressed that far. )

After eating, we went dancing. One spot in Austin was called the Tropicana. I remember they had little glass ashtrays with a green palm tree on them. We brought ashtrays home as a souvenier of the evening. That summer, when I returned home and had the ashtray in my room, my dad had a fit and wanted me to take the ashtray back. Sort of upset my memory of the wonderful date I had. I cried and the ashtray stayed. But it got lost in all my years of moving around.

I thought about doing this picture as a painting for quite a while, and have finally done a sketch. I want to do it fairly large, eventually, in oil paint. While I was starting my sketch in a waiting room, a young man looked at it and I was amazed that he recognized what it was. He said he recognized it as people out dancing in the 50s because of the clothes and the orchestra. So, maybe this picture will be interesting to someone else, too.

Today, I have been playing around with more shading on the drawing, and I like some of the things that happened, but I'm not happy with other areas. I think they will work better in oils than in pencil. I printed a copy and did the shading on that so that I didn't damage the original, in case I like that one best. I posted two versions so that you can see how this develops. I like the shading on his face, his tie and shirt collar, and my hand, on the last version, but I'm not happy with the shading on his jacket or his neck, yet. I like the background over his shoulder.

I was trying to get the effect of how it looked when I was dancing with my Aggie date, the darkness of the Tropicana, dancers on the dance floor, including my friend and her date, and the orchestra.

I can still remember the light on the side of his face, the lower part of his ear and his neck, and the tweed jacket he was wearing. But, I cannot remember what I was wearing! I left myself out of the picture, except for part of my hand on his shoulder. On the last version, I did try to use an eraser to pull out part of the back of my head, but I really don't like how that worked. For one thing, I would have been a bit taller, but then my head would have cut off the background that I do like. More work to do on this one.

As dancing ended, we drove up to Mount Bonnell and looked at the lights over the city. Very pretty, with a gentle breeze. I do remember that, before we went out, I used a little "Wind Song" cologne. (Can't remember my clothes, but I can remember the perfume!) I still associate that cologne with Mount Bonnell.

There were a few more dates with him, before he graduated and moved on. I kept up with him as much as I could, without intruding, over the years, and was sad to hear that he died a few years ago.

Still, through the years, there have been lots more dates, in more places, with dinner and dancing on Saturday, and other nights.

Now, I'm just happy if I can eat supper in front of the tv set and watch the British comedies on PBS on Saturday night. My knees wouldn't let me dance now if I did have someone to dance with. But, it is nice to have those memories. I know that you must have wonderful memories of your own. I hope that you are still making some good memories that you can draw on in the future.

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