Merle H. Winters

My Grandfather….I don’t have a lot of memories of him, certainly not as many as my cousins who grew up near him.  Two memories I do have, though. For me, as an educator, as a person in love with this process called life and growth in the spirit of creative expression, the one memory is an important adult observation.  My grandpa ran a gas station when my mom was a child, and by time I came along to know him, he was painting houses for a living.  Always on visits, there was the smell of turpentine and paint in the basement where he painted as an artist, and the painting of my mom as a teen on the stairwell wall.  Very late in his life, he took a painting class and the teacher required a research paper to be written.  My grandpa resisted, but did it.  Afterwards he let everyone know that his worked improved as a result of the assignment.  What a risk to step into the unknown, the uncomfortable and come out with a breakthrough!

 The other memory is not so much a memory of him, but of his 2 children, my mom, Louise, and my Aunt Barbara… and my Uncle Tom.  They remained devoted to him throughout his life and in his memory.  Never underestimate the power of devotion of a child for a parent! This devotion, no doubt, fed his art and creative expression and assisted him in his passage into the next life when he died. 

 Each child and grandchild has paintings from Grandpa.  There are many favorites, and somehow, no one is jealous of another’s particular painting.  True appreciation and devotion has a value that transcends and transforms the mundane….And, for me, that is an important element of art.

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