Tales of a Traveling Airbrush

When I write up one of my more memorable masterpieces, or some of my various memories, I will post them here for you to enjoy. Comments are welcome; I'll try to reply.

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Monday, September 26, 2005


News from a friend in Michigan echoed in my mind and heightened my priority as I headed the VW west toward Arkansas. Her mother had died. I was on my way to see my mother this trip. My mother the opera singer.

As a child, I awoke each morning to the sound of chords being played on the piano accompanied by the vocal exercises that kept her soprano voice in top shape. Years ago, her coach announced that if she continued to practice she would still be singing at the age of sixty five. She is now eighty-four and still singing as a paid vocalist at her church.

As the journey took me closer to the hills of the Ozarks where my folks had built their retirement home a quarter of a century ago, I recognized some familiar landmarks but noticed that progress had claimed others.

The winding road hugged the limited earth that paralleled a limestone cliff. This ancient and majestic sentinel was an indication that her home was just a few more miles. My mind, filled with fond remembrances was anxious to see her. Soon, I was up the familiar driveway and taking the sidewalk to her door.

I was greeted by a somewhat shorter and grayer person than I remembered but she was none-the-less sweet. I am very fortunate. My mother possesses an unending source of positivity and encouragement. Her biggest blessing to the people around her is her sweet demeanor.

Sunday morning as I awoke, true to her form, vocal scales filled the air. The pleasant sounds mixed with my first conscience thoughts of the day prompting gratitude as I reminisced.

Later, as I sat in a pew, I was rewarded with her special solo and another moment to treasure.

Thank goodness for this quiet time at home with her. In solitude I find not only a time to recharge my being but to reflect on the foundation she provided me with long ago when she began encouraging me to be creative, playful and loving.

Later, As I watch her shine with her friends as they play canasta I am sad for my friend in Michigan. We only get one mother, the only true source of undying love for many of us. Gratitude and grief combine as I immerse in the flood of emotion that rises inside as I empathize my friends situation. I feel my eyes well up and I thank God for the love I have known. Without hesitating, I tell my mother "I love you"

Warmest Regards,

Dave "Letterfly" Knoderer
cell: 1-813-505-5539