View source for 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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