Strengthening the "Brain Muscle"

Benson & Hedges cigarettes was a class assignment in Father Steven's algebra class. We had to write an essay on their TV commercial. Every other weekend Father Steven gave his students a thinking assignment. We had a full week to write an essay on one of several subjects he posted on the black board. I picked TV commercials for my essay. My eyes and ears were glued to commercials between episodes of Gunsmoke, Sugar Foot and I Love Lucy, for hints of what to write. I ended up writing about Benson and Hedges claim of filtering through its length. Mom was there as my spelling guide, as usual. "Sound out the word,” was her response to my spelling question. Sometimes Dad would look up from his crossword puzzle and chime in, asking if there were any words I could replace the one I needed help with. Homework was a family project some nights…

Thinking was Father Steven's goal in class. When he became aware of my interest in art, he picked art related subjects for my weekly essays. Looking for Math in a painting took the joy out of a painting for me though. An essay on one of Jackson Pollock's paintings was a real stretch for me, that somehow I got right. I learned there wasn't any correct answer coming from these essays. Dad smiled when I told him anything I wrote seemed to be correct. I didn't know then Father Steven was just strengthening our “brain muscle”, as Dad put it.

I looked at Kathe Kollwitz art differently after Algebra's class. Her drawing of "Woman with Dead Child" suddenly became a drawing of intense love. I took the time to really look at her drawing and read up on her. Father Steven, who hoped I would make a career involving math, had turned my choice of careers towards the arts. I wanted to move people with my art, like I was moved by that drawing. Mike the Barber helped me with that. When dad realized I was serious about going into the field of art he went all out making sure I knew what I was doing and set me on the right path. 

The guidance counselors at Marmion Academy washed their hands of me when I told them what I wanted to be... If one wasn't going to college they had no time to help you. Today Marmion has an art class.  

Twenty Dollars for a Portrait of a Hound Dog

Mr. Goosemen, fresh out of college, was D class's English teacher. At 5'9, his front row of 6'4 and taller students was the offensive front line for Mr.  Nardonie's football team. He immediately had the guys move to the back row so he could see the other students. I wasn't a member of the football team, and had no time for football. Homework and work filled my time.  Just the same, I was moved to the back of the room. First class assignment was to read "To Kill A Mockingbird," and tell why we thought it was banned in so many communities. I read the book twice and could not come up with any reason for banning the book. Concheta, Simon-the-school-cook's sister, gave me the reason as I scrubbed the school's kitchen floor. I would have gotten an A had Concheta been able to stay and help with my spelling. Instead, I had a big red F on my paper. Nouns, pronouns, adjectives, and prepositions I got. Spelling simply puzzled me. 

I wrote about Marmion, and how the military part of the school would play a part in how we might go through life. My first A came with my essay on Kathe Kollwitz. I put everything into that easy. Mom provided the spelling. There wasn't a word Mom couldn't spell. 

I lost my afterschool job (working at a diner being catered by the head chef in the school mess hall) when I spilled a dish of cottage cheese on a lady wearing a black dress. I swear a man tripped me on purpose. Being fired gave me more time for my art. I found I could make money with my art. More than the penny-a-minute that I had been earning. Twenty dollars for a portrait of a hound dog.  Another twenty for a portrait of an English Pointer.  I was ready to do more dog portraits thanks to Walter Foster's How to Draw Dogs books.

Still I didn't know what I would do for the rest of my life to earn a living. Whatever I would do, it couldn’t rely on spelling... How would it look for a man to show up for work with his Mom there to spell for him?