Finding them a new home

Like most families, my parents collected “art” over the years. It ranged from elementary art class projects to posters to true art bought from a gallery with real money.

Art, like many things in life, is subjective.

After Mom passed away, I displayed the pieces that meant something to me. The rest have been safely stored in our basement for the last handful of years.

Among all the pieces, five were aviation themed.

Sitting in my basement, they don’t bring joy to anyone. So I brought them upstairs, dusted them off, and added them to the small pile of items to bring to the Northwest Aviation Conference held in Puyallup, Washington, in late February 2023.

My plan was simple: Find new homes for these pieces.

One piece never made it out of the house. While home for the weekend, my daughter saw it, was overcome with warm memories of her grandparents, and claimed it for herself. The painting of a duck transitioning to a J-3 Cub on floats went back to the basement.

The other four made it to the back seat of my truck so I could display them in my booth at the conference.

I had several people stop and look, then move on. A few people asked it I was selling the art.

My response: “No. I’m finding them a new home.”

Hearing my reply, most people tilted their head like a confused puppy and then wandered on.

But a handful of people paused and pondered and probed for more information.

My uncle flew Corsairs in World War II

One gentleman came to a halt upon seeing, “Nostalgia XIV Here Come the Marines! Corsair and Zero” by Herb Fitcher.

“My uncle flew Corsairs for the Marines in World War II. I have his logbooks,” said the clearly emotional Bill.

It was obvious Bill admired his uncle very much.

“I have a wall filled with momentos from my uncle’s time in the war.”

Then he asked, “are you selling this?”

No, I explained, I’m finding it a new home. Then I told him where it came from and why it was on the table.

After a few moments of back and forth conversation, I told him I thought he was the perfect person to be the next caretaker for this piece of art.

To say he was floored would be an understatement.

“Can I pay you for it?”

“No. But you can take care of it and enjoy it.”

Stunned, he really didn’t know what to say. I grabbed the print, put it on the back table and told him to swing back by when he was done touring the show and he could grab it to take it home.

Sure enough, a couple hours later he stopped by. If I read his body language correctly, he still wasn’t sure of what was happening.

Upon seeing him, I grabbed the print and handed it to him.

He grinned broadly and told me he had just the spot for it.

With a heartfelt thank you and a firm handshake he — and the print — were off.

I owned a Weedhopper

Another of the prints I had was a rather large print showcasing a Weedhopper ultralight and the Wright Flyer.

Similar to the Corsair exchange, this guy told me, “I owned and flew Weedhoppers.” I responded, “my Dad also flew a Weedhopper once.”

Among the fun back and forth banter, I learned more than 13,000 Weedhoppers, in all manner of varieties have been built.

He was quite pleased with his new print as he left with a big smile.

Are you serious?

A couple was taken with a painting that is hard for me to describe. It depicts aerial combat between two World War I biplanes. It is brightly colored and quite large.

The couple relayed their memories of World War I aircraft, their fascination with the engines, and the techniques of the pilot.

If I recall correctly, they had just renovated their hangar and this painting would fit their style perfectly.

I told them there was no charge for the painting, but if they wanted to, they could make a donation to an organization instead.

When they returned to retrieve the painting, they told me they had made a donation to TeenFlight Puyallup.

Perfect.

That’s me

The last print I had was by Pete Kersten. It depicted, in cartoon style, a car and an airplane engaging in a race. The first race.

Harold walked up, looked at the print, pointed at the pilot in the plane and said, “That’s me.”

He then went on to relay a number of jokes and fun stories and a few kind words about my Dad.

The story I enjoyed the most was about him waiting in line for a shower at an air show in the late 1960s or early 1970s. Finally first in line, he looked at the woman standing next to him and said, “You want to take a shower with me?”

Much to the surprise of everyone within earshot, she said yes.

But before they walked to the shower, she asked, “Are you married?” To which he replied, “Yes. Are you?” She said, “Yes.”

They shrugged their shoulders and walked to the shower stall. After finishing, they walked out, shook hands, said thanks and walked their separate ways. All jaws hit the floor.

Then he added, with a twinkle in his eye, “that was my wife.”

“She loved to mess with people in fun ways like that,” he said.

Then he looked down at the print, pointed once again at the pilot and said, “That’s me.” and then walked off.

I had his business card. He failed to come back to pick it up on Sunday, so I pack it up and mailed it to him.

It feels good to find new homes for some of my parent’s beloved possessions.