To this day no one knows who broke the Easter Egg. A beautifully decorated porcelain Easter Egg that played music. It was kept high up in the china, away from little hands, where mom kept all her treasures. It rested alongside her Great Aunt Eva's tea set and Aunt Evelyn's two small cups for drinking hot chocolate, at least that's what I thought they were used for.
We only saw these treasures when mom brought them down to dust them and dream about those who gave them to her. There were always different stories to go with the dusting. Mom's Uncle Walter's ashtray, holding brass buttons from his uniform. Her Uncle Walter was a “Doughboy”, as mom referred to him. He was tall and oh so handsome. He rode an Indian Motorcycle even in the winter. Leather cap and jacket with black goggles - he was quite the dashing hero. He had stories of France and fending off the Huns .
Mom painted with words. At nights in bed, before falling asleep I would imagine those stories mom told us of him racing down a snow covered road in France, carrying a message to the general. The electric heater in our room gave a warm glow to our bedroom adding to my dreams of Uncle Walter on his motorcycle. Laying in bed with my brother Micheal, I asked where France was, to which he would answer "go to sleep". Our ice cold bed gave me thoughts of the snow on a winter night in France…
As the dusting continued, mom would play Teddy Bear Picnic on the old phonograph to keep us busy and away from her treasures resting on the dining room table. My little sister and I worked on our coloring books as my older sister helped with the treasures. Some stories I missed because of who’s crayons were who's... The crayon dispute ended when Cathy would grab her doll and go sit on the living room sofa. There she talked with her dolls and asked about those in mom's stories. Alway asking about who had the pet monkey and could we visit them again.
Cleaning the glass doors of the china cabinet was the sign for putting things back, and then bedtime. Dad came home from his Knights of Columbus meeting and over saw pajama time, while mom and my sister Pat put things back into the china cabinet. Us kids would retell mom's stories to dad as he tucked us in . Years later I would think of those people mom told us about as I painted still-lifes of mom's treasures. I took extra care getting each piece of the tea service set just so. Great Uncle Walter's metals added a touch of meaning for me to another still-life.
Painting for me takes me back to visit with aunts and uncles I never met and introduces new people who are part of my present life. Kim, while posing, shared the different religions she explored and shared their ideas with me and Chenoa tells me of her ancestors who lived off the land as they hunted buffalos. Each model has stories to tell adding to a day's work. With each story I think of mom's stories and the one of who broke the musical egg. Mom taught me to listen, a big part of my art.
