Sunday, December 4, 2011

About My Dad's Art Studio and Sign Painting Shop...

My dad was an 'old school' professional sign painter... he was very good.  In fact, back then... he painted signs for businesses and he would do portraits from small photos for people and do all kinds of wonderful things.I would walk by the doorway and my father would be working hard at his big table/easel.  The lighting in there would be so inviting!  How I wanted to go in there and use all the beautiful colors and pens and pencils... I wanted to paint and draw.  He never let me come in there to learn anything from him.... all I learned to draw and paint, I have done it on my own.  He did tell Peggy that she needed to begin to learn things and she could go in there and draw... he did that in front of me.  He never invited me.  Mary Ruth, Peggy and never shared my father with me and he was afraid of me..... you all made me feel little when I lived there.  I was always in trouble and never knew when to expect to be in trouble with my dad.  Did you know... I still
loved all of you and wished that I could have been a real part of you guys... I would have made a good family member... a sister, a stepdaughter and a daughter.  I did like I should when I lived there but, you didn't choose to see that... I have no regrets about my actions there... I really was a good kid.  I only studied in most all my spare time excepting when we were cleaning house, waxing floors and ironing and doing dishes.  That's where I learned so much about these things.  I loved your home though I was never a real part of it when I was there.  I have only one wish at that point in my life... that was to have learned all my father could teach me.... Peggy never took time to learn... she was so fortunate to be given the chance.  She was 2 years younger than I and... his baby.  I was his oldest child... Sharon was Mary Ruth's daughter but, we weren't allowed to say that back then... Peggy and I looked like our father.  I loved them but, they were made to think I wasn't anybody ... it reflected from them again on the day my Grandmother Lola was buried. 

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