My Grandparents From Back East

   My mother's parents were very different from my father's parents.  My dad's parents immigrated from Italy and had very little formal education.  My mom's father graduated from the University of Pittsburgh.  He also owned, among other cars, a Pontiac convertible.  My father's parents didn't even own a car in their later years.  
     Aside from these major differences, my grandparents on both sides knew each other.  My Great-Grandfather Tata (on my mother's side) was a good friend of my dad's father--both having worked in the Pennsylvania steel mills and both belonging to the Palenese Club (for Italians).  Great-Grandma Tresa (sic) was very close friends with my father's mother--visiting each other often and sipping coffee with fernet or anisette in it.  My dad's mother used to sell candy in front of her house.  My mother's mother used to buy candy from her on her way home from school.  My dad's parents used to buy their medicine from my mother's father's pharmacy in McKeesport.  In fact, one time when both my parents were very young, they played together (my mom was the oldest in her family, my dad was the youngest in his family).  My dad wanted to play cowboys, but my mom was too shy to play.
     I remember the first time my maternal grandparents from back east, came to California to visit us.  They drove across country in their new, red, Pontiac convertible.  Grandpa usually wore a hat and always looked very dapper.  He had a mustache like Grouch Marx.  Grandma also always dressed very fashionably.  When they came to visit us when we lived in Lakewood, California, it was like Bob Hope and Lucille Ball came to town.  All of my father's side of the family came to visit them (they all lived in California by now) because they had all known each other back in Pennsylvania.  I didn't realize how unique it was the both sets of my grandparents were good friends and knew each other long before my parents were married.  I think that even helped allow the marriage to take place because when Dad asked Grandpa if he could marry his daughter, Grandpa asked my dad what his plans were for the future.  Dad said, "I'm not sure."   It was not a great answer, but Grandpa let the wedding take place anyhow.
     When my maternal grandparents came to town, it was like a week-long party.  Relatives visited our house, the stories never ended, and we ate, and ate, and ate.  We went to Knott's Berry Farm.  We went to Disneyland.  We laughed so much.  I remember how my dad would make Grandma and Grandpa laugh until they had tears coming down their faces.  I always thought that it was special how my dad would call his in-laws, "Mom" and "Dad".
     One time, when my grandpa was using the bathroom, I had on my cowboy hat and toy gun and I pushed open the door and yelled, "Stick 'em up, Grandpa!"  Grandpa start shouting for Grandma to come get me out of there!!  Everyone laughed so much.  And we all cried when it was time to say goodbye. 
     My grandparents always treated my sister and me so well.  They visited from back east several times through the years and made it to my sister's wedding as well as my wedding.  Many times, when they would send gifts to us, they would send books because they were sturdy and could be mailed easily from back east.  Many books on our shelves at home right now are inscribed to us from my grandparents.
     Thinking back on it, my Mom made a real sacrifice to move all the way across the country from her parents.  They talked a lot about moving to California when Grandpa retired, but they never did.  I don't know if I can every fully appreciate what my Mom did for us.  I guess that is why she always loved receiving autumn leaves her mom would send her in the mail.
     Because it was always such a festive occasion when they would visit, I have nothing but fond memories of my maternal Grandma and Grandpa.

 

Pup's Garden

     Al Pacino's character in the movie, "Serpico" told the girl next door to "Love my garden."  When she asked him why, he replied, "If you love a man's garden, you love the man."
     "Pup" is what his children called him; I always called him Grandpa.  He was an Italian immigrant who came to this country as a teenager in the early part of the 1900's.  He knew a time before computers, cell phones, television, radios, telephones, space travel, jet planes, airplanes, refrigerators, and cars.  He went to school for only a few years.  He worked most of his life as a laborer.  He raised seven children.  He was never on welfare.  He helped build the New York subways, toiled in the Pennsylvania steel mills, and worked for the city maintenance crew in Hawthorne, California.
     I was a baby-boomer who grew up in the "golden age" of television, the space program, the "new" math, and the 60's.  As a child, when we would go to visit my Grandparents, many times I would not know what to talk to him about.  After a short period of silence, I'd ask to see his garden.
     He and Grandma lived in a nice house in Hawthorne, California that had a huge front yard and a small backyard.  On one side of the house was Grandpa's vegetable garden, or "Pup's Garden."
     That garden proved to be the bridge between his generation and mine.  It literally gave us common ground on which to stand.  In this garden, he became the teacher and philosopher.  In his broken English, he would show me the plants that he had planted.  I would ask a million time what this plant was, and what that plant was.  He would, ever patiently, point out, "This is garlic, this is onion, this is parsley."  I would ask him why he had a "dead" plant in the garden.  He would laugh and explain to me that it was a grape vine and that right now it was "asleep"  but that in a few months it would be full of green leaves and grapes.  It only looked dead.  I'd tell him that it was a beautiful garden and he would humbly accept my compliment, they would explain the problems he would encounter each season--from bugs to cats to diseases.  Then he would tell me how he would use simple logic and common sense to overcome each obstacle.  After awhile, he would say it was time to go in and have some of Grandma's soup.  Some of the vegetable ingredients came from his garden.
     I think he enjoyed showing me his garden as much as I enjoyed seeing it.  When he would latch the gate to the garden behind us, I felt that I had just experienced something very special.
     Little did Grandpa know how I would follow his teachings, not only in my own garden, but also in my life.  When he passed away, I thought of the grape vines that seemed dead, but still had life within them.  It reassured me to know that things are not always what the seem, and I'm sure that I'd see him again in heaven.
     I always loved my Grandpa's garden, and as they say, "If you love a man's garden, you love the man." 

Mum's Soup

     Grandma lived with Grandpa in Hawthorne, California for many years.  Her children always called her "Mum".  I'm not sure why, but that is what they called her.  I called her Grandma.  Grandma was loving and generous and I'm told, used to be quite a funny person.  After her oldest daughter, Anna passed away, Grandma wasn't quite as humorous as she used to be.  Still, I always enjoyed going to visit them.
        On almost every visit, Grandma would take me into the hallway and open her linen closet and reach way in the back.  She'd pull out an envelope and take out a crisp five-dollar bill.  She would look around to make sure we were all alone and then discreetly tell me not to tell Grandpa.  I really didn't think Grandpa would mind, but I kept our little secret.  One time, Grandma did this, and a little while later, Grandpa did the same thing, giving me a five-dollar bill and telling me not to tell Grandma.  They really were hilarious in their own way, and I used to leave their house with pockets full of money.
     Sometimes my Dad and I would go see them for a quick visit on a Saturday afternoon.  Dad would tell Grandma that we had just finished eating and that we weren't hungry.  He didn't want her going out of her way preparing a meal for us.  He just wanted to sit and chat.  We'd sit at her kitchen table talking about this and that; all the while she'd be nodding and commenting, but she'd also be taking things out of the refrigerator and putting them on the table or heating stuff up on the stove.  My Dad would say, "Mum, I said not to get anything for us to eat."  She'd say, "I'm not."  But she would continue to put food on the table until it looked like a feast for a king.  She still was pretty funny to me.
     She would always have so much good food to eat, but the absolute highlight of going to Grandma's was her beef noodle soup.  I don't know how she would make it, but she always seemed to be making some, or she'd have some in the refrigerator or in the freezer.  When we would visit, in no time at all, she'd have a huge  pot of that soup warming up on the stove.   She would serve it in a large soup bowl with a little pepper and graded Romano cheese on it.  I would be enjoying my second or third bowl of soup, and Grandma would say, "Have some chicken or something else to eat."  I'd tell her, "Grandma, I can have chicken anytime.  I can't always get your soup, so I'm just going to stick with that."  She loved that.  She and Grandpa would tell everyone else what I said and then she'd lovingly serve me another bowl of soup.
     I was very lucky that my mother asked Grandma for her recipe and soon mastered the finer points of making that soup.  Many years later when I had married, my wife asked for that recipe.  Both my mother and my wife can make beef noodle soup that would make my Grandma proud.
     When my Grandparents had both passed away, I did not ask for anything of their estate as the family went through their things.  The one thing that I did receive was one of my Grandma's soup bowls and to me, that's all I need.  (That soup bowl is in the picture to the right of the stove.)

MUM'S SOUP RECIPE (SERVES MANY)
3 to 4 lbs. Beef cut into chunks (chuck roast or stewing beef chunks)
3 to 4 quarts water (or at least enough water to cover all the meat)
2 teaspoons of salt (add more at the end if needed)
1/8 teaspoon of pepper

Place above in a large pot.  Bring to a boil.  Cover pot and lower heat to simmer for at least two hours--until meat is almost tender.

NOW ADD:
2 stalks of Celery (peel, clean, slice)
2 carrots (peel, clean, slice)
16 ounce can of tomato sauce
1 teaspoon of Parsley Flakes


Simmer with pot covered one more hour.  Remove any large chunks of meat and cut into bite-size pieces.  Return meat to soup.  Separately, cook 1 cup of the small macaroni salad noodles or elbow macaroni and add to soup.  Serve soup with grated Parmesan or Romano cheese.

The Pieta

This is a drawing that I did many years ago as a gift for my Mother.  My model was a photo of Michelangelo's Pieta.  I should have stopped after this one because I think it came out exactly as I envisioned it--which most artists will tell you never happens.  Click on photo to enlarge.

Oliver Reed in "The Three Musketeers"

This a sketch of actor Oliver Reed in his role in the movie, "The Three Musketeers".  It is a loose-line drawing.  I always feel my art is "stiff" and I think I need to do more projects like this one.

Flowers

This is a watercolor of flowers--a different subject for me.

The Protector - Fountain Valley Football Player, Patrick Henigan

Elsinore Football Player

I did this from a photo of one of my players.  I tried to imitate the style of Leroy Neiman.

John Wayne Dot Drawing

I know John Wayne wasn't a war hero or a historical figure, but I always liked the characters he played.  In his last movie, "The Shootist" I liked his quote:  "I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and I won't be laid a hand upon.  I don't do these things to other people and I require the same from them."

Madonna and Child

This is an original dot drawing I did from a beautiful oil painting by professional artist, Morgan Weistling called, "Kissing the Face of God." 

Crescent City, CA Lighthouse at Battery Point

This watercolor is from a photo we took while on vacation in northern California. 

Buffalo Hunter--Loading his Gun with his Mouth

This is an original pen and ink sketch from a Fredrick Remington sketch.  Interestingly, in the movie, "Shooter" with Mark Wahlberg, there is a scene in his cabin where you can see the Remington version of this picture hanging on the wall in the background. 

Jack Lambert -- Pittsburgh Steelers

This is an original watercolor of Jack Lambert who played for the Pittsburgh Steelers.  I used a famous painting of Lambert done by professional artist Merv Corning as my model.  I gave my original to a friend for his birthday.  He is a big Steeler fan.  Anyway, he lost it--so if anyone knows where it is, please let me know.

The Phantom (Train Engine & Tender)

I like the bright colors used in this one.  M and C Railroad are for the initials of my children.  Click on photo for a larger view.

  


  

'67 VW Hippy Van

I wanted to get a VW van like this and travel up the coast of California.  I took photos of my friend Paul's old VW van to use for this watercolor.

 

Light Farm Wagon

I built this wagon with new wheels I got from Ohio and antique seat springs from Oklahoma.

Click on photo for a larger view.

Sitting Bull

This was an etching done on a piece of oak.

The Old Man in the Tree

This was carved from a piece of apple wood.

Shadowed Door

I like the way the angle of the sun plays in this picture.
Click on photo for a larger view.

In the Chute, Measurin' the Rein, "Bout three fingers and a Thumb"

This is a dot drawing.  There are no lines in the picture.  
Everything is a series of dots.

Mexican Fruit Vendor

This is my favorite watercolor that I have done.  
I like the texture of the fabric and the feel of the picture.

Slim Jim Holster

AN ORIGINAL SLIM JIM HOLSTER WITH SPANISH FLORAL DESIGN.

I went ridin’ out one dark and stormy day.
Along the trail I rested as I traveled on my way.

When around the bend a mighty horse came gallopin’ on the scene,
And astride it was the toughest man, this young cowboy ‘d ever seen.

“I see you’re a tough old cowboy who has seen a lot of years.
You’ve fought in many battles and never showed no fear.

What’s the secret that’s allowed you to keep all of your hair,
‘Specially when so many, seem to be losin’ theirs?”

The old horseman wheeled his steed as its hooves pounded the ground.
The steely eyes just froze me, and at first he made no sound.

Then the old man said, “I see your gun is one of the finest of them all.
But it’s stickin’ in your belt,  lookin’ like it’s ‘bout to fall.”

He turned the horse so I could see the gun he wore with pride.
And then I saw the leather sheath that kept it at his side.

“Your holster is important too, cuz it keeps your gun at hand.
It keeps it clean and shields it from the rain and wind and sand.

But the thing you must remember, to live long and avoid the noose,
Is to keep that gun well-holstered and to give it little use.”

With that the old man reached into his dusty saddle bag,
And pulled out this old holster and he wiped it with a rag.

He tossed it down and told me that now it would be mine,
And if I listened to him, my life would turn out fine.

He wheeled his horse and spurred the beast–into the night they rode.
And I stood there–a lesson learned from a man I never know’d.

But now I have his holster which I am passin’ on to you,
With a wish for many years, and few battles too.


by: Guy



Click on photo for a larger view.

It is not from a kit.  The holster pattern is my design and is cut from one piece of leather.