Sunday in Sunrise, Chapter 4

by | May 14, 2011 | Marty Coleman, Sunday in Sunrise - A short story | 0 comments

Prologue

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapters Ten & Eleven

Epilogue

Chapter 4

Maria never saw the old man; she was staring at the redheaded girl with a thousand freckles.  “Hi, come on in.  My name is Art and this is Maria.” I said as I held open the door.  The old man reached out his hand, “Hello.  I am Angus and this is Melissa.” His hand was coarse and strong.  “Melissa, say hello and shake their hands”.  Melissa, still with eyes wide and unblinking, reached to me, then Maria.  Maria smiled and said a simple “Hi”.  I said, “Actually, Melissa and I have already met.  She stole my watercolors at the quilt shop”.  She squinted her eyes and pursed her lips “I did not, I was there first!”  I laughed and said, “Yes, you are right.  You got there first, fair and square, and the watercolors were yours to buy.” She smiled and said, “I am glad I got there first but I am no good at watercolors”.

I escorted them into our kitchen, and asked them if they wanted some tea, both said yes.  As I poured the tea I said, “So, Melissa, I guess you want to learn how to use those watercolors?”  She responded, “Yes, I tried to use them but I made a big mess and ruined everything”.  “What did you ruin exactly?”  I asked.  “I ruined this.”  She pulled out an envelope from the little bag she had with her. There were some bits of color on the edges but for the most part it was it was grey, muddy and quite waterlogged. It was still damp.

“Well, the first thing we might do is let you use some better paper, that’s one of the reasons this didn’t work out so well.” I said.  “NO!” she exclaimed.  “I need to be able to paint on an envelope because I need to send it to someone.”  “Well, we will keep that in mind, but I still think you might learn more if we at least start on some better paper, is that ok?”  “NO! I want to learn on envelopes.” She squinted her eyes again.  “I know pretty paintings can be done on envelopes because of this one.”  She brought out another envelope. It was the one I had seen in my box the week before.

“Actually, not only have I met you before Melissa, but I have met this envelope before”.  “What does that mean?” Angus asked.  I didn’t think he had been paying attention. He had been looking out the kitchen window at our birdfeeder, watching the cardinals and the blackbirds fight for food.  “Well, I have Box 745 at the Post Office and they put this in my box instead of 845.  Of course I noticed how beautiful it was.  I remember thinking that Melissa, whoever she was, was a lucky girl to get such a beautiful letter.  Bettina at the post office really liked it too.  She said it was ‘love in the mail’.”

Angus didn’t show much of a response, but Melissa smiled wide. “It’s from my brother, he lives in Alabama”.  “Wow, that’s a long way away.  What’s he doing there?”  I asked.  Melissa was just about to say something when Angus stirred in his chair and said, “We should get on with the lesson.  I have to be back home in 45 minutes.”  Melissa shrank just a bit.  I took the hint to not ask any more and we went into the studio for her first lesson.  Angus went outside to smoke a cigarette. I could see him through the large north window of the studio. He stood motionless, head down, contemplating the smoke.

Melissa said, “I want to be able to paint a sunrise to send back to my brother. Can you teach me how to do that?”  Maria who had been by my side the whole time, still watching the redheaded girl, piped up, “He can teach anybody anything!”  Melissa looked at Maria and smiled.  “Good!” she said.  I turned to Maria, “Maria, can you go get some envelopes from my office?”




Being Rich vs Being Wealthy – Well Wealth #5

by | May 13, 2011 | Well Wealth - 2011 | 0 comments
When I was growing up I, like most kids, didn’t really know if I was rich or poor, wealthy or not.  I just knew my life.  But as I grew a bit older I found friends who lived in smaller houses and apartments.  I found friends who lived in big mansions too.  I found friends who scraped by, friends who went to private school and summered on exclusive islands.
But I didn’t really know where I stood until the day we went to our housekeeper Libby’s home (that tells you something right there. I didn’t even know having a housekeeper put you in a certain economic class). All I knew was she had worked for us in Maryland when I was a baby and now was working for us in California after my mother had my younger sister.  

I loved her because she told me some day I would be able to beat up my older sister and that if I ate too many oreos I would turn into one.  I could think of worse fates.  I also liked that she lived in my room with me for a few weeks when my sister was first born.  I had a huge downstairs game room with a bunk bed. She slept on the bottom bunk, I on the top.  It was great fun.

I had never been so dumbfounded as the moment we drove up to her house.  In my eyes it was a completely run down house just this side of being a shack.  I really truly felt like she shouldn’t live there, that it was probably really dangerous and it wasn’t right. I thought we should have her continue to live with us. It was a shock to my 10 year old system.


That’s when I first realized not everyone lived like we did.  It was the beginning of me understanding money and being rich or poor.  But it took me quite a bit longer to even start to learn what it means to be truly wealthy.  I am still learning that one, again and again.

A Man That Hordes Up Riches – Well Wealth #4

by | May 12, 2011 | Richard Burton, Well Wealth - 2011 | 0 comments

I learned a lot from my first father-in-law. He was frugal and planned well. He was able to retire at age 55 and have a long second career in a field he had great passion for. He taught his whole family to be conscientious about money and I appreciated learning how to be that way as well.
 
 
It did bring up some issues however.  When my first wife and I went on our first vacation we had to have a discussion about money. This is what it came down to:  she was worried about spending too much, and I was worried her concern would override our willingness to have fun and enjoy the vacation.    Now, I wasn’t going to go out and buy something expensive and crazy, but I did want us to enjoy ourselves and to do that we would be spending some money. 

I came to realize something on that vacation.  You know the cliche statement ‘I want to get away from it all’ that accompanies planning a vacation? Well, what exactly is ALL? It might include your job, obligations, stress, location, routine, family, weather, etc.  You know what else it might include? A desire to escape worrying about money. That is what I wanted a vacation from.

There is a time to worry about your money and be frugal. There is a time to enjoy it, share it, spend it.  My first wife understood what I was talking about and agreed to loosen up the wallet a bit. I, in turn, promised not to spend $10,000 dollars on a painting of Elvis on black velvet.

 
 
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman of The Napkin Dad Daily
 
Quote by Richard Burton, 1925-1984, Welsh actor
 
 
One year ago today at The Napkin Dad Daily – Bullying
 
 
Where in the world is the Napkin Dad Daily?  Everywhere! (well, except Africa, we need to get more Napkin Kin there)
 
 

Money is Usually Attracted, Not Pursued – Well Wealth #3

by | May 11, 2011 | Jim Rohn, Well Wealth - 2011 | 0 comments

What is money attracted to?  It’s attracted to worthy people. Who is worthy? Those that invite money in, give money something to enjoy and appreciate, and appreciate money in return.  Just like personal hospitality with family and friends, right? So, treat money (and the people who have it) with respect and admiration, offering something of value and money will be attracted to you.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman of The Napkin Dad Daily
Quote by Jim Rohn, 1930-2009, American businessman
One year ago at The Napkin Dad Daily – Manners Are a Sensitive Awareness

Is Money the Root of All Evil? – Well Wealth #2

by | May 10, 2011 | Well Wealth - 2011 | 0 comments



I like this quote because it asks a logical question that I haven’t heard before.  I really haven’t thought about it or researched it long enough to have a definitive answer.  So, help me out, tell me what you think is the root of all money.




Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman of The Napkin Dad Daily

Quote by Ayn Rand (Alisa Zinov’yevna Rosenbaum), 1905-1982, Russian born American novelist


The Real Measure of Wealth – Wealth Week #1

by | May 9, 2011 | Anonymous, Well Wealth - 2011 | 0 comments
Do you know how much money Einstein had?  Do you know how big Mark Twain’s house was?  Do you know if Florence Nightingale had expensive clothes?  What kind of car did Amelia Earhart own?

Chances are you don’t know the answer to those questions. That is because their wealth and worth weren’t defined by their money and material possessions.  What about you?  Are you under the impression that your wealth and your money are the same?  If your money goes away does your wealth go away?  How can you protect your wealth even if your money and material goods disappear?



Perhaps your wealth is your legacy, not your money.  What does your wealth look like now? What would you like it to look like?


Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman of The Napkin Dad Daily

Quote by Anonymous


One year ago today on the Napkin Dad Daily – Political Correctness

Sunday in Sunrise, Chapter 3

by | May 8, 2011 | Marty Coleman, Sunday in Sunrise - A short story | 0 comments

Prologue

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapters Ten & Eleven

Epilogue

Chapter 3

By the time I arrived home it was time to feed my dogs. I have 2 dogs. One is named ‘Flat’. She got this name when we brought her home from the pound 3 years ago. My precocious youngest daughter, Maria, (which her mother insisted was to be pronounced“MAR e uh”) age 7, asked if it was a boy or a girl. When I said it was a girl she said with a snicker ‘Then where are its boobies?’ I said ‘girl dogs don’t have boobies that show unless they have babies.’ Her deadpan older sister, Daria, in middle school and growing unequally in her various body parts said, ‘In other words, she’s flat.’ The name stuck.

The other dog got its name in similar fashion. We found it roaming the streets in a rain storm. We brought it home and before I could dry it, it shook all it’s wetness off, all over me.  That same precocious daughter said ‘It likes to shower people!’  Its name is ‘Shower’.

After the dogs were satisfied, I noticed the little yellow light on my phone was blinking.  Getting a message was almost as rare as getting mail.  The voice on the other end was gravelly but clear.  The man speaking said he was interested in the art lessons I advertised.  He said his kid wanted to learn how to paint and he couldn’t afford the money or take the time to drive to the museum school in the city 30 miles away.  He asked if we could do lessons on Thursday afternoons as it was his only day off.

I called him back and we made plans for him to bring his ‘kid’ over.  He must have said ‘my kid’ about half a dozen times.  He had that type of voice that you imagined had at least 30 years of cigarette smoke behind it. Right before he hung up he said ‘Oh, the kid wants to learn watercolor stuff most of all. Do you even know how to do that type of art?’. I assured him I did.

Maria, asked if I really was going to give art lessons. I said, ‘Yes, why do you ask?’ She said, ‘Because you are REALLY going to have to clean your studio now!’ I was not looking forward to that.

By the time Thursday afternoon rolled around I had done a pretty good job of cleaning up. I had found 3 sets of watercolors I forgot I had, a broken electric pencil sharpener that I put on the large pile of things to fix on my garage work bench, an apron I had used when I was a waiter and, down in the back of the bottom drawer of my art dresser (where I was stuffing the apron) a very old card I had received from my unwife. Yes, I call her my unwife. She calls me her wasbund.

The card was a first anniversary card.  We had been living in a very small farmhouse in Michigan at the time, close to the graduate school I was attending.  It made me tear up to read how happy she was about our first year of marriage and how excited she was for our future. The painting on the front was of a sunrise.

As I wiped away my tears I heard a knock on the door. Maria ran to the front door first and opened it. Walking up I saw a grizzled old guy in a pair of bib overalls, a John Deere hat and boots with dry, caked-on mud. He had a face that matched the voice I had heard on the phone. And next to him, with eyes as big as an owls, was red headed Melissa.

© 2011 Marty Coleman




Sunday in Sunrise, Chapter 2

by | May 1, 2011 | Marty Coleman, Sunday in Sunrise - A short story | 0 comments

Prologue

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapters Ten & Eleven

Epilogue

Chapter 2

I rode from the Village Mart to Selma’s Quilt Shop.  I was riding a bike, not driving as I usually would. The bike is an old, I mean really old, derailleur type. I found it at a garage sale in the neighborhood I sometimes walk in. The lady selling it told me she couldn’t ride it anymore because a spider living under the seat bit her.  She said it was a nasty spider and the bite had left a nasty scar on her derriere.  Her husband had found a bunch of spider eggs underneath the seat confirming that that was the spider family abode. She said she was afraid to ride it now but it was a good bike. While I felt sorry for her derriere I was happy to get the bike for cheap.

I go to Selma’s because her store doubles as an art store. I get pencils, markers, watercolors and paper there.  Selma is funny and sassy. She wears very thick glasses and very low tops. Imagine a cross between a librarian and a burlesque dancer and you have Selma. She is another who ended up in Sunrise with no idea how she got here. Nobody else has figured out how she got here either.

I needed to check if my little advertisement on her cork board needed replacing.  It was one of those simple ones offering art lessons where you take the little tab at the bottom with the person’s name and number on it. I would get a call once in a while but usually not from people in my town but from the larger town a few miles away. The ad in that town I had to replace more often. The ad at Selma’s only had about 3 tabs ripped off, just one more than had been ripped off last time I came by a month ago.

I was also needing some new watercolors and she usually has a set sitting off in a corner waiting just for me to come in every couple months.  Today, however, the set wasn’t there. It was instead in the hands of a young girl waiting at the counter. She was perhaps 10 years old, maybe 11. All I could see was her shoulder length red hair, flopping down to pretty much obscure her face. The skin on her shoulders was a mottled mix of brown, red, white and tan, as if she had recently peeled from a sunburn. I got behind her and waited for Selma to return from helping a customer find American flag fabric.

I said to the little girl, “You know, you stole my watercolors”. She turned around with big eyes set in a round freckled face and said “Really? but I really need these today.” I said “Sorry, they are reserved exclusively for me and no one else is allowed to buy them.” The girl looked a bit scared but right then Selma returned and said  “Do NOT pay any attention to that man! He thinks he’s the only artist in town but now there is another one and he’ll just have to get used to it!” The girl caught on quick, realized the fun going on and said “That’s right, he will just have to get here before me next time!” I responded “Oh, next time I will be here at sunrise, you can bet on it!” She smiled and paid for the paints. As she skipped towards the door I said “Don’t use too much water with those watercolors”. I wasn’t sure if she heard me as the door closed and she went out of sight.

Selma looked at me sternly and spoke, “You scared the daylights out of her”. “She was ok, I was just about to let her off the hook and tell her I was joking when you came up.” I said. “Yea, well you better be nice to her, Melissa hasn’t had an easy life.” Selma responded. But she didn’t say any more.
I rode my bike back home. As I passed the house of the barking dogs I heard Selma say her name, Melissa. Maybe she is the Melissa of the beautiful sunrise envelope I thought as I speeded up.


© 2011 Marty Coleman



The Oklahoma Tornado Royal Wedding Hat – It’s A Tornado! #5

by | Apr 29, 2011 | It's A Tornado! - 2011, 2013, Marty Coleman | 0 comments

In honor of the Royal Wedding of William and Kate, which I stayed up all night to watch (yes I did) I present you with the one hat you should have seen, but didn’t because Posh changed her mind at the last minute, dag nabbit.  Another chance of fame and untold wealth down the drain.  Oh well.
oklahoma tornado royal wedding hat
Drawing, exquisite design and pithy commentary by Marty Coleman of The Napkin Dad Millinery Consortium, LTD.

Storm Peace – It’s A Tornado! #4

by | Apr 28, 2011 | Anonymous, It's A Tornado! - 2011, 2013 | 0 comments

Serenity is Not Freedom From the Storm, But Peace Amid the Storm
tornado week

I helped raised 4 daughters.  There was plenty of drama over the years, but what I loved seeing as they grew is their increased ability to hold on with some degree of peace and serenity when their personal or communal storms were raging all around. They weren’t, and aren’t, always successful, any more than I am, but the maturity to have that peace hold longer and stronger is always growing in them, and I am very proud of that.


The ability to find some peace amid a storm is not just beneficial to you, but to everyone around you.