This may be a repeat from long ago. We had had to wait for over one year to remodel our kitchen because of a lack of money. Finally we were done after a lot of the work had to be farmed out because of a lack of ability. After the place was sheet rocked I said we can do the 'mudding' and painting. I tried and tried to get the seams invisible and it was impossible for me, and we hired a professional painter and then we hired a person to lay the tiles on the floor but finally the kitchen was ready.
My most favorite job was washing the kitchen floor. The tiles were white and with the blue woodwork it was a gorgeous kitchen. I used to treat the floor as if it was the deck of a ship. I would get a pail of warm, soapy water with a small addition of Clorox. I'd take my shoes off and walk around in my bare feet. Then I would swab the floor. I was wallowing in the warm water when a thought struck me. Earlier I had read an article about Andrew Whyeth in Time Magazine and it occurred to me that since he lived in such a small town in Pennsylvania I could probably phone him to find out if he was going to be in Chicago during his Show. I thought either a secretary or a family member would answer the phone. So I wiped my feet, ran to get the magazine to get the name of his town.
Chadsford. I called information and asked for his number. HE answered the phone. He said 'No, I will not be there when you come to see the show. Do you mean to say that you will go from California to Chicago just to see an art show. I said No. Not just any art show. But I will in order to see an Andrew Whyeth art show. He said 'I am deeply honored. Thank you for telling me. You have made my day.
I loved his paintings. There was mystery and something spiritual. And sensational skill. For with his utter realism it was it was a mystery that it all worked. When I heard that he died today, I was saddened and I felt as though a good friend was lost. If any friend of the family reads this, please convey my sympathy. I forget the first name of his son who painted that wonderful portrait of President Eisenhower, that I mentioned in yesterday's blog, but tell him I am sorry he lost his father.