Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Under The Tonto Grin, Part II

February 13, 2013
   Still working on a logo for a friend of mine who wants a Cave Creek Cowboy and a Tonto Apache aligned and gazing at the same future. Did six sketches, this being the most recent.

Also working on a love letter to growing up on Route 66. Sent this page of old photos down to Dan The Man's this afternoon. This is out of my grandparent's photo album showing my father's gas station in Peach Springs in 1947.

This was where I got my arm in a washing machine ringer. I have a bad scar on the inside crook of my left arm but thanks to Dr. Arnold in Kingman, I can still use my left arm. Frankly, I'm somewhat amazed I made it this far. In addition to putting my hand in the washing machine wringer in Peach Springs, because I was fascinated by the contraption, I also leaned in a stock tank on the Bell family farm and almost drowned. I was saved by a Ladies Aid woman who saw my feet flailing in the air as I leaned over and went right in. I also was enamored of an elevator conveyor belt driven that was loading corn out of my grandfather's corn crib and I would have rode it, but my grandfather was onto my poor judgement and took me down to the house where my grandmother tied me to the clothesline on a leash. They still laugh about this in Iowa whenever I go back.

Anyway, I often wonder how I made it to the here and the now. This is the theme of a song I have been listening to quite a bit lately.  As you probably already know, I absolutely love Loudon Wainwright's album Older Than My Old Man Now. One song could have been written about my own life, including the year of my birth (and the motive of my parents):

The strangest story ever told

is how I got to be this old

At the close of World War II

my folks did the deed that the young folks do

In '46 out I came

This world would never be the same

I don't know why, I'm not sure how,

I wound up here in the here and the now

chorus [sung by his kids]: 

He don't know why, he's not sure why, 

he ended up here in the here and the now.

In the 1950s I was just a kid

Did all the kid stuff all you people did

I rode a bike, I threw a ball

childhood yeah, I got through it all

The sixties came I got incensed

The girls were scary and the parents were pissed

I don't know why, I'm not sure how

I wound up here in the here and the now.

Chorus sung by his kids. Repeat.

"Whatever it is that hits the fan will not be evenly distributed."
—Old Vaquero Saying