I apologize for my recent hiatus. I became very sick with allergies Saturday night at the Art on the Greene Festival, and now on Tuesday, still cannot shake it. I am just a shell of a teacher here at school during these state-mandated tests for four hours, and then a full slate of classes following. Not a good time to be sick.
The art and music festival was a resounding success. I have not yet inquired about the official numbers, but know that over 3,000 came through the park during the short days of Friday and Sunday. It would be easy to assume that the Saturday attendance pushed the numbers far beyond 10,000. My booth was full much of the time, and I enjoyed every single patron that paused to converse with me.
Some patrons came, looking for bargains, some looking for just that perfect piece to fit in a space at home or at work, but many entered my booth to remember. My company is Recollections 54, as I create scenes and vistas reminiscent of our small-town America during the fifties. And I truly loved every story, every experience that was shared with me by patrons over those three days.
The posted picture has finally sold, in the original watercolor. A patron who had been eyeing it for over six months came and made the purchase Sunday. And I was also delighted to sell limited edition prints of it as well as greeting cards carrying its image. It is no doubt a scene that has resonated with many.
I grew up outside St. Louis, Missouri, and have known this Spencer’s Grill since my early childhood. The business was established in 1947 on historic Route 66 (now Kirkwood Road, or Lindbergh Blvd.) and the sign has been in place since 1948. The business has never closed, and I do not fail to go there when I visit my St. Louis family to enjoy a breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, hash browns and scrapple. Entering this diner is like entering a time warp in the 1940′s and 50′s. I relish every sensation and memory culled from my visits there.
Proust reminds us that there are sensations that arrest us unexpectedly and take us back to warm, primal memories of our childhood that matter, that are worth remembering. Spencer’s Grill does exactly that with the smell of the old diner, coffee brewing, and breakfast foods frying. The sounds, the aromas, the look at the people hunched over the counter and crowded into the booths–all of this brings back my childhood, and my memories of an America that will not die until I do.
Thank you for reading. I should be feeling better soon and return to blogging.