Moving on (2012.1)
Article Transcript
A few weeks ago, a big chunk of my life arrived at my front door. He came into my living room and sat down on my sofa, and it was really quite an occasion. He had telephoned us first; he actually got on the phone and called to make sure we would be home. Oh yes, we would be home! And there he was, Bob VanderVen, the contractor who on speculation built our house, sold it to us, and got it ready for us to move into during the fall of 1969.
Now, I’m sure plenty of people would say that 42 years isn’t much. But it is a lot for a young guy looking ahead 42 years, and it is a lot for some other guy, like me, to be looking back 42 years.
On one occasion in the early 70s, Bob and I were talking, and he said he really preferred to hire young, not-so-experienced guys as workers on his projects. He felt it was his duty to give these young men a chance to mature as house builders. And as it all turned out, he had the same attitude toward me as a caricature artist as he had to those fellows that sawed the wood and pounded the nails.
Bob told me that he really enjoyed the drawing I had done of him at our hometown art fair. And now he wondered if I’d be interested in something a little bit bigger. “Why sure,” I said, “I’d be interested. What do you have in mind?” Well, what he had in mind was a caricature of a house being put together by people who were caricatures of the workers. I would be drawing not only carpenters, masons, plumbers, electricians, installers of flooring, roofing, and windows—all the various trades that are involved in the building of a home—but in addition there would be the owners of the property, their dog, the architect who designed the home, finance people who made sure the bills were paid, and, of course, the contractor himself, Bob. This drawing was to be done in pastel chalk and charcoal. It would be 3 feet high, 5 feet long left to right, and would include the figures of 20 to 25 persons. It was to be properly mounted and lighted and placed in the family room of the new house, ready to be presented at a party celebrating the completion of the home. It would be Bob’s house-warming gift to the owners of the property.
There was no way that I could say no to such an opportunity. So, for a number of weeks that fall of 1979, evening after evening I leaned over my kitchen table, the only spot in my home where I could spread out my materials and work on that drawing. When it was completed, Bob came over to pick it up, and he saw that I couldn’t stand up straight. Bob was really good to me. He paid me not only my price for the job, but he brought me a sixfoot- wide, tilt-top, professional architect’s drawing table. He helped me set it up in my basement. From then on, I’ve had a regular studio in my own room downstairs where I could do big projects and little projects, none of them quite like that drawing for Bob VanderVen, the house builder, but all of them created in an increasingly better style, the result of the encouragement, the support, and the backing that I received from Bob, who gave me the confidence that I could do a job of this sort.
We had such a good time chatting about this experience, that we decided to get together a few nights later at Bob’s house. It was such a joy to have a close look at that chalk drawing after all those years. A new owner had purchased the place and had suggested that Bob might like to have it back in his possession.
As we sat together in his living room, Bob’s wife, Gisela, took down from the walls, one-byone, some beautiful paintings of scenes in the woods, on the shores of a small lake, along a pleasant stream, among the west Michigan sand dunes. I asked Bob when he started doing his paintings. He said that it was just a few years ago. He had been having serious heart problems and ended up with a replacement for a heart valve. “Painting was part of my therapy during my recuperation,” he said. “I had terrible pains in one leg, but when I stood in front of my easel and concentrated on painting a tree, or a cabin, or a field covered with flowers, I no longer felt the pain.”
Bob told me that when he was a young man starting out in the business of building houses, he would draw sketches of the structures to show the clients what to expect. But it was not until recently that he discovered he could do more than sketch—he could actually make a painting that someone would put in a frame and hang on a wall, bringing the beauty of the outside, inside, where folks could enjoy it for years to come.
“I’m active in a service organization called the Optimists,” Bob told me. “I would recommend that you don’t have to wait until you’re in your eighties to find out what you can do with your talents and skills. Get started today. Look around and see what needs to be done. Then, working together with your wife, family, and friends, take the necessary steps to get the job done.”
Bob and I have quite a bit in common. We both zoom around from here to there on our 4-wheelers (although his is motorized!); we both look for ways in which we can be useful members of our community; and —of greatest importance—we both have supportive, loving wives for which we are most thankful.
Have a question or idea for Lee’s next column? Email him at LandL1937@comcast.net.
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