My Great Foray into the Art World

The other evening at the Salvation Army, which I was striking it rich on the trousers and blouses departments, I walked past a very large painting. I stopped and looked at it again. It was muddy-colored and just giving it a quick glance, thought to myself that it was painted in oils. There was a bronzed plaque on the bottom that read "Olvera Street", and another "J. Laycox." It was $50. It was too 1960s for me. And the muddiness made me sad. I didn't know if it needed a good cleaning, but I was in a rush, so forgot about it until the next day.

It turns out that William "Jack" Laycox was a well-known watercolorist, born and raised in California. Despite his travels around the world, he was best known for his watercolors of California scenes.

And one of his big paintings sold for nearly $2,000.

My heart beat fast. I was able to find all kinds of Laycox auctions that had brought very nice prices, but nowhere did I find any reference to "Olvera Street".

The next day I went back to the thrift store. The painting was still in the window and it suddenly struck me that this was likely not a painting. I got it out of the window. I cringed that it was in the window, getting the heat and sun all day. I laid the painting flat and saw yes, that what had seemed to be blobs of paint were in fact raised spots in the heavy paper. I took off my glasses and leaned in. Yep. It was a lithograph. A dirty lithograph with a couple of scratches across it.

I put it back.

But I'm still thinking about the fact that nowhere in Maitre Laycox's oeuvre is there mention of Olvera Street.

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Oh. And just to add a non-sequiter "isn't it weird" thing to this, I found my grandfather's photography on sale on line for prices that made me gasp.

I have mixed emotions about this.

Part of me says that the work of the child molester and destroyer of lives should be gathered up and burned, along with the negatives.

Another part of me says that he's been dead for nearly twenty years. Destroying the photographs won't un-destroy those lives.

I've finally been able to shrug about it and mostly move on. There's just still one tiny part of me that thinks it's not a good thing that his work is still out there. And selling for nearly as much as a J. Laycox watercolor.

Not-So-Instant Karma

Chatting with Dr. Lavender the other day, I told him about Annushka and her current troubles.

I tried to explain to him what Annushka meant and still means to me. She taught me things my mother never did, simply because my mother never learned about them and never pushed herself to learn about them. My mother had been a child in her mother's house for 33 years. Annushka's circumstances dictated that she take over the shopping at age 7 and that's putting it mildly. Annushka was always trying to learn new ways to make her house more agreeable, ways to put beauty into her life.

And, too, I mentioned that Annushka had the habit for years of marching into her daughters' houses. With E, she would always say something like, "When are you going to clean the living room? Why are there hockey sticks / footballs / Little E's uniforms all over the couch?"

Dr. L observed, "She sounds controlling."

"She is," I agreed. But not as controlling as my mother. And in a much more direct way.

This past Saturday, I realized that Annushka is no longer in control. She can't be in control. The growing weakness in her body absolutely prevents it. At the moment and for at least the next four weeks, she will continue to lose control over her body, over her household, over her life.

I'm not saying she has cancer because she insists on ironing her sheets, but I'm beginning to think if she had let go just a little, she might have enjoyed the ride more.

Amazingly Instant Karma

The morning when I read about the Peruvian earthquake, I thought, good, there need to be fewer Peruvians in the world. In Jersey, they are everywhere and seem to bring with them nothing good, unless you like reading headlines about dog fights and bar brawls and drug sales.

Then I got myself ready for work.

My friend JB needs a job. He's a great guy. I met him at Former Fezziwig Co. and he was one of the few people I've managed to connect with.

A couple of years ago, he moved himself and his family to a northern tundra to work at a job that greatly advanced his career, only to have been bounced a month ago.

I knew he had an interview that day, so I stopped in at St. Fatty's to do a little God-bothering.

There were two other people in the church - a woman in the front who was lolling over the pews and sitting as if she was waiting for a bus.

The other was a woman in the back, with a handkerchief in her hands. She was weeping softly, but sometimes I heard her stop and gulp a little.

I went up front, shoved a dollar in the candlebox, lit a candle, and bothered God for about five minutes.

On my way out, I passed the crying woman again. I walked into the pew where she was half-kneeling. She still had the hanky in her hand, over her face.

I touched her shoulder. "Are you okay?" I asked.

She looked up, eyes red and bleary. In barely-accented English, she said, "I'm okay, I'm okay. But my mother and husband - they're in Peru and I haven't heard from them." She started crying again.

I sat next to her for a few minutes and without knowing it, had taken her hand. With my other hand, I patted her shoulder.

She sniffed, dried her eyes. "I'm going to be okay. Really. As soon as I hear from them. I know they have to be all right."

I nodded and stood.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Becs."

"I'm Maria."

I wished her and her family well, then left to get in my car to go to work.

Ashamed of myself? You bet. Learned a lesson? Oh yeah.

And We All Shine On

Yesterday morning, Boy Wonder pounded on my cubicle wall. "Becs," he moaned. "I'm siiiiicccck."

I nodded. "I'm not surprised."

"What? Why not?"

"It's karma," I said, not really paying much attention to him.

"Karma? What for?"

"For leaving that old lady to cope with her car."

"Augh! Stop it! That's such bullshit and you know it."

"It isn't," I said calmly and thought, payback's a bitch. "It's true and you know it."

"That's just ridiculous. That's the stupidest thing I ever heard," he said and stormed away.

Instant karma just got you, Boy Wonder.