1. How old were you before you opened a new gallon of paint and used it all by yourself, right to the last brush licking drop?
That's a lot of paint. Don't you remember seeing someone dip the brush into the can, bring it out, slather it on the surface until it had to be dipped again, etc., etc... Don't you remember that as you watched what was happening, you came to the conclusion that it was impossible to run out of paint at that pace? You and I both know that this thought is a universal one, but not one that occupies a lot of our time. At least not now, that we know that a gallon of paint gets purchased full, but gets thrown away, maybe 1/2 full and crusted over, in favor of a new one, of the same color, in about five years' time. So you remember the answer to the question, or perhaps this experience never became a reality for you. It did happen to me. I'll be brief.
I had been fired from a great job with Lionel Trains. It was located in Tijuana, Mexico and I was the one U.S. guy who could speak Spanish. I'll spare you the details of that story. It took a long time to find work and we were on the verge of losing our house. One day, a friend from church saw me at the bakery, asked what I was doing and I answered, "starving." He said, "Good, I need some help in my business. I paint interiors of houses and hang wallpaper. Right now I have a ton of easy work. You want it, you got it. I can teach you how to paint in an hour." I agreed, of course. He said, "Here's the first lesson." He slipped me $15.00 and said, "Go buy a brush." I was flummoxed. $15.00 for a paint brush? Just one? In 1982? I thought that I had retained control, but his stern remonstrance showed me that he had seen my reaction. He made a stiff statement of the non-negotiable 1st principle of professional painting. A good brush will MAKE you a better painter. In my case, the better brush was going to MAKE the painter, period.
I dragged the Voice from the Kitchen with me and actually paid a little over $17 for a brush. I remember the conversation on the way home being about where to buy a padlock to protect the key to my professional future. I went to work at 6:30 the next morning. My friend spent some 30 minutes teaching me how to paint. Then he introduced me to the 1st project. 5 homes all of which had between 3 and 5 doors to be stripped and re-stained [or painted] and re-varnished [or painted]. Then there followed kitchens and bathrooms. All the nasty jobs that the "senior guys" avoid like the bubonic plague. I was 44 and that is how old I was when I found out that dip, by dip, it is possible to go through a gallon of paint, all by yourself.
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2. How old were you when your last, unresolved question from elementary school was finally answered?
When I was in the 7th and 8th grades I had a teacher who now and then in catechism class would go off and rant about girls who rode bicycles and horses. Remember now, this was in a parochial school, 1948 - 50. It was at the time when I was going from twelve to fourteen years of age. If we transport ourselves forward to the turn of the 21st century, I know that I would be accused of hiding the truth. Sixty+ years ago, though, no a boy in the class knew what this teacher's problem was. We were all quite bashful with girls, so we didn't even say a word to even those girls with whom we were on friendly terms. My grandfather who knew this teacher and knew the pastor well [he worked at the church for 60 years] died during this period of mystification. He was the one person I knew who would give me an answer and not snicker at my ignorance in the process. My grandfather always told me the truth when I asked something, even if it went against what we had been told in class. I assure you that all the guys I spoke with about this, every time it came up, were sure that the girls were as puzzled about it as we were. I confess to you that I have led a relatively sheltered life. That being said, I can honestly say that it took me until the age of about 37 before I figured it out all by myself.
What is really Serious about this is that there are things that pre-occupy us in life, both Serious and Safely Humorous. Still, we carry very human questions around with us for an entire lifetime sometimes without getting a sane answer. I did not used to believe this. YET, tonight I have written it because I have come to believe it. Now that is news, not because I have solved the personal mystery about the reality, but simply that I have come around to admitting the existence of the reality. The deep part of this ocean is that I feel comfortable with the Theological/Spiritual/Doctrinal part of this reality, after all, I have plenty of questions about God, but I am just now coming home to the purely human part.
I ask God this question a lot: Is this why you keep me around? <Question 3>
I had been fired from a great job with Lionel Trains. It was located in Tijuana, Mexico and I was the one U.S. guy who could speak Spanish. I'll spare you the details of that story. It took a long time to find work and we were on the verge of losing our house. One day, a friend from church saw me at the bakery, asked what I was doing and I answered, "starving." He said, "Good, I need some help in my business. I paint interiors of houses and hang wallpaper. Right now I have a ton of easy work. You want it, you got it. I can teach you how to paint in an hour." I agreed, of course. He said, "Here's the first lesson." He slipped me $15.00 and said, "Go buy a brush." I was flummoxed. $15.00 for a paint brush? Just one? In 1982? I thought that I had retained control, but his stern remonstrance showed me that he had seen my reaction. He made a stiff statement of the non-negotiable 1st principle of professional painting. A good brush will MAKE you a better painter. In my case, the better brush was going to MAKE the painter, period.
I dragged the Voice from the Kitchen with me and actually paid a little over $17 for a brush. I remember the conversation on the way home being about where to buy a padlock to protect the key to my professional future. I went to work at 6:30 the next morning. My friend spent some 30 minutes teaching me how to paint. Then he introduced me to the 1st project. 5 homes all of which had between 3 and 5 doors to be stripped and re-stained [or painted] and re-varnished [or painted]. Then there followed kitchens and bathrooms. All the nasty jobs that the "senior guys" avoid like the bubonic plague. I was 44 and that is how old I was when I found out that dip, by dip, it is possible to go through a gallon of paint, all by yourself.
<|><|>|<|>|<|>
2. How old were you when your last, unresolved question from elementary school was finally answered?
When I was in the 7th and 8th grades I had a teacher who now and then in catechism class would go off and rant about girls who rode bicycles and horses. Remember now, this was in a parochial school, 1948 - 50. It was at the time when I was going from twelve to fourteen years of age. If we transport ourselves forward to the turn of the 21st century, I know that I would be accused of hiding the truth. Sixty+ years ago, though, no a boy in the class knew what this teacher's problem was. We were all quite bashful with girls, so we didn't even say a word to even those girls with whom we were on friendly terms. My grandfather who knew this teacher and knew the pastor well [he worked at the church for 60 years] died during this period of mystification. He was the one person I knew who would give me an answer and not snicker at my ignorance in the process. My grandfather always told me the truth when I asked something, even if it went against what we had been told in class. I assure you that all the guys I spoke with about this, every time it came up, were sure that the girls were as puzzled about it as we were. I confess to you that I have led a relatively sheltered life. That being said, I can honestly say that it took me until the age of about 37 before I figured it out all by myself.
What is really Serious about this is that there are things that pre-occupy us in life, both Serious and Safely Humorous. Still, we carry very human questions around with us for an entire lifetime sometimes without getting a sane answer. I did not used to believe this. YET, tonight I have written it because I have come to believe it. Now that is news, not because I have solved the personal mystery about the reality, but simply that I have come around to admitting the existence of the reality. The deep part of this ocean is that I feel comfortable with the Theological/Spiritual/Doctrinal part of this reality, after all, I have plenty of questions about God, but I am just now coming home to the purely human part.
I ask God this question a lot: Is this why you keep me around? <Question 3>
On this one Paul I seem to loose your train of thought or the reason for the gallon of paint, girls on bicycles and horses. Perhaps it is the opinions, biased or otherwise, of the speaker but how did they effect you? Are you just thinking out loud and just what is your message? I admit I could be the one who does not understand your thought intention so I am left wondering what is "the rest of the story?"
ReplyDeleteThe Garbage Man
On this one Paul I seem to loose your train of thought or the reason for the gallon of paint, girls on bicycles and horses. Perhaps it is the opinions, biased or otherwise, of the speaker but how did they effect you? Are you just thinking out loud and just what is your message? I admit I could be the one who does not understand your thought intention so I am left wondering what is "the rest of the story?"
ReplyDeleteThe Garbage Man
Yep. agreed. Punch line is lost. It is this, We have some questions that take years for us to discover the answer. There are those that last us a lifetime and even though they never get answered, we get comfortable with having them half answered, but better understood.
ReplyDeleteWe are happy to have you along for the ride, Garbage Man.