Times Are Very Different Now

"Buy Local" the sign in the window of the print shop says. Sometimes I have trouble buying locally though, like the other day trying to buy a coloring book for Toys for Tots. Is buying from a megastore buying locally? In this gigantic megastore I couldn't even find a clerk...

Karthizer's Hardware was a local store, but the bank bought them out along with four other stores and put in a parking lot over 60 years ago. Same bank bought an entire block for another parking lot. Now the town is working hard to get businesses back downtown. Standing in the middle of this gigantic store I remembered Mr. Karthizer telling my dad after church the tool he needed was in and ready for my dad to pick up Monday. Mr. Karthizer donated toward the building of the new church, like most of the community did. We supported local businesses and they support us. They’d buy uniforms for baseball teams, put up basketball nets, lead scout troops, among many other things.

I'd like to think artists are small businessmen. We donate when asked, if we can. When the basket is passed at church we drop in what we can, we drop food off at the local pantry and when we can find them, we drop coloring books into the Toys For Tots box. Sometimes it is a painting we donate, and sometimes in other ways. Times are so very different now.

My Painting Companion

Heading out to the open country to capture an inspiration. With Henry, my loyal bodyguard and protector I seek out dirt roads that travel back in time. Old weathered, once painted structures that hold glimpses of my own childhood. Playing in the hay loft, chasing chickens, shucking corn, and wading in a cool stream.

Henry is looking too, his interest is a bit different. A place to pull over and a fair view of a house and barn, and Henry's approval, I go about setting up. Henry's marked his fence post and is doing his total inspection of the place. He looks back at me to see if I noticed how he sent a small black snake on it's way. He alerts me to a cow coming my way and moves to defend me.

As I begin to paint, Henry takes up his station just in front and to the right of the easel. At first he is at full attention sitting upright, back to me, he keeps a constant visual outlook for danger. A butterfly too close and he does his duty, but not too close for that cow which is now nibbling grass from our side of the fence.

We share a sandwich and some water. I point out a hawk circling above which brings a series of barks, followed by scolding the cow still interested in a painting lesson. With a clear sign it is safe for me, Henry does one more check of the area then settles down for a well deserved nap.

With my painting done and things packed away we take a walk about before calling it a day. Letting the cow know he came close to a bite on the nose, Henry jumps to his post in the front seat and in a loud voice barks his goodbye. He looks over at me waiting for that pat on the head and that last bit of ham from our sandwich. The bread is mine, the ham is all his.