By WR Jones
This is the grandmother (on the mother’s side of the two Shahandeh boys shown in posts Work Ethic and Fishing. When I gave the drawings of the boys to their mother, grandma remarked she would like to have a drawing of herself. Her daughter, rather cruelly I thought, said she was too old. I did this drawing of her in charcoal and sepia on watercolor paper. I much prefer drawing older people. Their faces are so much more interesting.
Time has passed since this was drawn. She is dead now. I wonder if her daughter has this drawing. Does it mean anything to her or was it long ago added to a land fill?
When I look at this I’m reminded of a woman who ran me off the road when I was driving a motorcycle. I was ready to unleash a torrent of potty mouth when she smiled at me so demurely saying she was sorry, but she did have her turn signal on. I pointed out the signal was turned on after she turned into me. Oh well, I just couldn’t stay mad at her, she was getting along in age.
This, of course, starts a series of motorcycle memories that I bring up everytime I think of buying another one. I had a motorcycle in Japan. A Marine captain took it away from me (as he could do since I was not yet 21) claiming he had a responsibility to see I got home safe. He actually took it away as a punishment for having a big mouth (Oh – I know – you would never believe that of me, huh?).
Turns out, he very well may have saved me injury. A week later my room mate lost his leg in a motocycle wreck. I was visiting him in the ward as he came out of surgery. The corpsman was not real sympathetic as he ask how he felt about being such an idiot as to lose his leg. The entire ward of this navy hospital with perhaps 20 patients was all motorcycle injuries.
I came back to civilian life where an office mate lost his leg as he was pulling his motorcycle out of his driveway. His 3 yr old son was on the back. I was in the hospital the day he was to lose the leg and the day his 3 yr old ran into his father’s room yelling, “daddy daddy, I was in the hospital and you didn’t even come see me.”
Recently a gym instructor of mine broke her wrist while dirt bike riding and an office secretary damaged a thumb.
I’m going to the cafeteria now; think I’ll walk.