And What is Love?

AND WHAT IS LOVE?

There is possibly a gypsy living inside of me.

And What is Love? – 36×30 – paper on board

In the late 60’s and early 70’s, my 3-year old son Todd and I lived in our Volkswagen bus, which my carpenter friend remodeled for us.  He built a storage box large enough for one person to sleep on.  Under it was a fairly adequate space to hold a camper stove, a bin of brown rice, bread, and a jar of peanut butter.   I had one small school-sized backpack which held a pair of pants, shorts, 2 or 3 t-shirts for Todd, a pair of blue jeans, a burlap dress my sister Kit had sewn (with a silk lining) for me and a couple t-shirts for myself. We had everything we needed, sleeping and storage space, one wide seat left in back for passengers, tiny green army men for Todd to play with, and a rag rug Aunt Betsy gave me. Grandma Agnes had made years earlier.  It did not occur to me to want more.  I felt rich.  We could change our scenery whenever we wanted.  I was doing just what I wanted to be doing. Todd was happy.  My gas tank was full if I had 9 dollars.  My rice lasted for weeks before I needed more.   When I got low on funds, I stopped for a month to visit my brother and his wife, in Nevada, or my sister in Vancouver, B.C. and worked wherever I could find a job.  One month of work kept me in that life style for 3 months.  Several times I picked cherries or other fruit in Yakima, Washington.  We ate fresh fruit, fresh vegetables, and brown rice.  While I had not yet discovered painting, I lived creatively, wrote poetry, fumbled with a harmonica and met all sorts of interesting people who were also living a similar lifestyle.  There was never any shortage of music.

I enjoy remembering that time. I think it will be fun to tell you some of my stories. Here is a beginning.