Mar
2
One of my earliest memories of my dad is that he loved doing paint-by-number pictures. The canvass was large, but the numbered segments where a predetermined color would go were very small. Dad would sit in his chair in our basement for hours, working meticulously with his painting in front of him and a cup of coffee at his side.
As a girl, I would sit on the basement stairs and watch with fascination. My interest did not stem from a misguided thought that doing paint-by-number work made my dad a great artist. Rather, I was amazed at how patiently he would work on each painting. Finally, the thousands of silvers of color became an image that Dad considered well worth the effort.