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With three infants at home, opportunity knocked. Father took a job in Springfield, Ohio, and moved the family. Dad’s role in Ohio became public relations advocate for Wittenberg College. While there he continued as a supply pastor for the Lutheran synod, and later, a fund raiser for the Osterlein Home for Children. Dad created slide show presentations, had meetings with influential patrons and produced sermons in churches he traveled to across the Midwest. This path capitalized on his talents as spokesman and problem solver and took him on the adventures across the Midwest he loved. Taking to the highway in his Pontiac, the wanderlust that filled his imagination became a trait he eventually passed on to me. As the wife of a pastor, mother coped with dad’s frequent travel by becoming the choir director for the Fourth Lutheran Church just a few blocks away. Also, during her eleven years with the Civic Opera in Springfield, Ohio, she sang the leading roles in at least three operas including “Samantha Southwick” and “the Old Maid and the Thief,” and supporting roles in many others. She also taught piano as the head of the Junior Piano Department at Wittenberg University for eleven years. Dad’s work with the university and the Lutheran synod took him across Ohio and Indiana. When I was a child, dad was gone during much of the week. Mother managed with three children and her career with the help of a live-in student of Wittenberg University. Due to her active career in the Opera and with singing groups, mom never developed cooking skills. My father actually taught her how to cook an egg.  In addition to all the duties of family and career, mother did the meal planning in advance so Sue Feidler, our nanny, could simply place the stuff in the oven when she got out of class and have dinner ready at the right time. Mother’s values and personality were formed during the depression when her family occasionally went without food. We were taught to have regard for every morsel on our plate. Dad appreciated her thrifty nature. They shared a special moment with each other when dad brought pastry home, something she considered pure luxury. We ate at a properly set table. All the plates sat in front of father who, after the blessing, served what mother had prepared and passed them to us. We were taught to sit up straight, how to use our utensils properly and use good manners at the table. To encourage us to appreciate her cooking, dad enrolled us with exuberant patter to get us to eat whatever was left in the serving dishes.  “Help finish this off,” he would say, as another serving of something was placed on our plates, “Here, have another bite.” Eager to please my dad, I learned to eat everything on my plate. I did my part to finish that extra spoonful, but my sister had a different response. She too, was encouraged to eat everything. Yet, once having eaten it all, rather that receiving accolades, she heard, “here, help finish this off,” and an extra portion of mashed potatoes were plopped onto her plate. In disbelief, she became really disappointed. The inner thought “this is not fair,” welled up inside her. She became silently rebellious. Unknown to us, defiance became the foundational force that drove her personality.

           “What’cha doing?” I asked innocently in an effort to start the phone conversation.

“Oh, David,” My mother bubbled, “I’ve been having the most wonderful time.” 

She went on to explain that during a recent visit, my sister bagged up a bunch of clutter from the attic but before the bags were carted off to the dumpster, my mother wanted to have a look inside. If her enthusiasm was any clue, the discovery she made was significant.  Next came the announcement that she had found all the sheet music from when she was in the quartet “The Melodears” back in Chicago in the mid-forties, before she met my dad. Walking on air, she leafed through the cherished musical scores, relived memories of her youth and sang those wonderful songs. 

           “What timing,” I thought as I listened to her happy story.  She went on to tell me she also found a music professor at a nearby university interested in having the antique sheet music for their collection.  

            “That,” she said, “is much better than all this wonderful music landing in a dumpster.” 

The pleasant surprise of finding my mother elated heightened my gratitude.  I am fortunate to have a sweet, joy-filled mother. She looked for the beauty that surrounded her every day. Since my father’s passing, I knew she was lonely.  I began to call her twice a week. My intention was to provide comfort. Each conversation revealed more to love. As the months went by, we became good friends.  

My interest piqued, after a moment I asked when her love for music began and about memorable achievements along the way. She perused the thought, giggled and began to tell me a story. 

The first official announcement of her career intention occurred in homeroom class during the height of the great depression. The fifth-grade teacher went around the room and asked each student what he or she wanted to do with their life.  

When Arleen’s turn came, she stood and said “I want to sing” and the whole class burst out laughing. 

She started with voice lessons. Soon she was in both chorus at school, choir at church and sang occasional solos. Soon with Amy, who became her longtime friend, she became part of a duet.  

After High School she received a scholarship to attend the Sherwood Music School. During WWII at the first FM radio station in Chicago she became the program director. She selected peppy, vocal-free music for her program ‘Music for War Workers’ from a library of 78rpm records and even larger commercial discs.  

While working at the radio station she also sang in a trio at church. Encouraged by one of her friends, an audition downtown secured a position for a rigorous season with the Municipal Opera of St Louis, where the company performed a new operetta every week. The following year a tour with the Chicago Popular Opera Company took her all over the country and to Denver where the company fizzled out.  

Back in Chicago, an audition with an agent started a tour of state fairs and school assembly programs with the ‘Charm Quartet,’ a trio of vocalists with piano. 

Becoming independent, the group became the ‘Melodears.’ At a church mortgage burning celebration she met the student intern assistant to the pastor who ended up also being invited to the choir party later on, but he needed a ride. Since my mom had a car, the girls went to pick him up and the rest was history. 

Our regular telephone conversations covered a variety of topics. My life on the road provided plenty of news to share with my mother. Plus, many aspects of my path of recovery from alcoholism found similarities with the spiritual path mother was on.  I found new fascination with this woman I have known my entire life. I continued with the interview style of call she enjoyed and I learned more. 

As the wife of a pastor, my mother became choir director for the church. During thirteen years with the Civic opera in Springfield, Ohio, she sang lead roles in two operas; ‘Samantha Southwick’ and ‘Old Maid and the Thief’ and supporting roles in all the others.  

My favorite memory as a child was waking to the sweet melody that drifted upstairs and into my consciousness every morning. Mom rose early to practice singing her scales at the piano. This early imprint established my enthusiasm for the morning and for all the new day brings.  

She taught piano as head of the junior piano department at Wittenberg University for eleven years and later when we moved to Bloomington, Indiana she taught piano and voice as well as when we lived in Arlington Heights, Illinois. 

When my folks built their retirement home in the Ozarks of Arkansas, her piano playing and singing continued. At age sixty-six she began as a paid soloist at the Christian Science church and continued singing in that role for twenty years. As a testimony of the joy in her heart, she was still singing professionally at eighty-six. During one of our conversations she laughed.  

She shared something with me that her voice teacher back in Chicago told her during her early teens; “if you take good care of yourself, you will still be singing at sixty-five.” 

My mother’s example made me think back to the sequence of events that molded my career. As the years went by, I grew artistically, spiritually, emotionally, and my motive changed.  At one time I was ego driven to be the greatest I could be. Now I realize that true satisfaction is the byproduct of being of service to others. My passion for painting is evidenced by the amount of completed work that continues to this day.   

With each passing year, the amount of old time pinstripers and airbrush artists diminishes. This leaves a larger market to a few artisans who thrive creating in the century’s old tradition. One decade at a time my mother’s career was revealed. Like her, the sequence of events that take place continues to reveal new direction in mine. 

My mother’s relentless optimism, singing and efforts to inspire others provide me with clarity. My goal is similar; to be a blessing to others, to have fun while interacting with them and to share the gifts I have received. This in turn creates memories for other people to cherish and enjoy.  

As I pause this day to appreciate the beauty I am surrounded with and the wonderful people I am of service to, the peace inside increases the level of joy in my heart and I feel like singing a happy tune, just like my mother.  

            I am glad I called.

During the years I lived in the compact quarters in the front of my horse trailer, I learned to discard something every time I acquired something new.  My routine changed from being on the road all over the country into commuting each day to Lazydays from Gee Gee’s elephant farm. I was successful, yet I guessed I would always just be living in a trailer.  

I recalled my friend Terry in Indiana. He encouraged me to have a home someday. My mother hoped along with my growing circle of friends that someday I would find contemporary stability. I planned to settle in Sarasota someday but with this opportunity at Lazydays I did not want a long commute. I liked being close to a big town but wanted a home in the country with zero restrictions. Again, Jack proved helpful. 

I had no experience with the home buying process. Jack helped me put together the criteria of what I wanted: a horse property, room for vehicles, remote but close to a big town etc. I did not want to be in the traffic close to Tampa. By looking east, Plant City became my target. I began a search for a home of my own.  I looked at several places while riding along with a real estate agent. One stood out from the rest.   

A two-and-a-half-acre property was loaded with big beautiful Live Oak trees. The ranch style home was long and low with sturdy block construction and a stucco exterior made to look like brick. The two-stall barn out back was perfect for Sir and Betty and the outside perimeter was already fenced in.  I fell in love with the place. 

My friend at Overcomer’s was also interested in what I found. Lee accompanied me to see the place I favored. While there, Lee offered to lift this quest up to God. We knelt in prayer. He started by thanking God for his power at work in our lives. After he asked for guidance in regard to the purchase of this place, I added to the prayer. I affirmed that if in fact this place was meant for me, I would dedicate it to friendship. The real estate transaction flowed to a sweet end. 

At one point my mother asked me what my new address was so she could send me something. When I recited to her the street name El Shaddiai she gasped.  

“Do you know what that means?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“It’s Hebrew and one of the names for God,” she revealed, “God the provider.” 

That fact provided clarity about my new home. 

Before I could pull my rig onto the property, I had to have several loads of dirt dumped in a low area and have gravel spread to make a big driveway. During my years on the road, I camped in other people’s driveways. I wanted others to have the same opportunity here. A long and wide driveway also provided Jack a place to park his motorhome.  

The next few years saw tremendous growth on this slice of heaven. I began building and improving.  Priority was a round pen. The real estate lady’s son-in-law was available to work and knew how to trim trees. We also improved the fencing with railroad ties. 

I erected a large pole barn in the rear corner of the property with the help of River Ranch Gene when he visited in his motorhome. Building this workspace was the result of learning a lesson long ago about counting on a single major account. In addition to creating a place to park the rig, this pole barn – dubbed the hanger – provided an alternative place for paint work.  

Another friend at Overcomer’s had remnants of a nursery landscaping company among his property maintenance and cleaning services empire. Mike brought over three loads of plants, his sprinkler system installation crew and everything needed to transform the areas underneath the trees into lush garden areas.  

I began to bring home scrap marble from a regional granite yard where counter tops were made. I arranged those pieces like assembling a puzzle. They became nice garden pathways. I found a wooden swing to hang from a branch out front and created a secret place to sit and meditate. 

When I traveled through towns during my circus years, I became smug when I saw someone mow their lawn. I thought ‘what a waste of time.’ Now with rich black dirt, a head start with landscaping and encouragement from others, I developed a new addiction. I became obsessed with plants. Soon ornamental trees, hedges and flower beds transformed this slice of heaven into fodder that would have been perfect for the cover of Better Homes and Gardens.   

My mother came to visit each winter. Having a home was a big improvement to my digs at River Ranch or at Gee Gee’s farm. While decorating the interior of the house I gave the guest bedroom a musical manuscript theme just for her. Christmas became special with mother here. We went to the big Methodist church each year to enjoy a traditional holiday eve service.  

Jack arrived from Colorado about that time too. We had a campfire in the backyard when weather permitted. Our holiday was filled with laughter. The dedication of this place to friendship worked. 

Barry joined me occasionally at Lazydays and visited at my house. I thought since I now had stability our relationship would move into the next phase of commitment. For years we saw each other about a half-dozen times annually. One day she had an announcement. 

“I will never live with you in Plant City.” 

I was finding out more about this woman I loved. Apparently, a man coming in and out of her life was all she knew being raised by her aunt and grandmother. She never had a contemporary father or mother relationship modeled to her as a child. She raised her children the same way she had grown up – without a father in the house. There was a mysterious dynamic with that wonderful woman. One day she called. 

“There is someone I want you to meet,” she said over the phone.  

The mystery deepened. Then she prophesied, “I know you will like her.”  

I thought this was a trick. I proceeded to attempt to unravel the conundrum. I found out Barry had met a married man and wanted me out of the picture. I was devastated. 

The years went by. Jack became a fixture at Lazydays each winter. He helped me market and sell murals and gave the seminars. Those were busy times. I never saw my home in the daylight. The frenzy of motorhome buying was underway. I produced an endless stream of custom airbrushed images of all kinds for the couples who flocked to Lazydays.   

I began to get connected with the staff at Lazydays. I received phone calls from salesmen with referrals. One sunshiny day, I received a request to come to the front of the dealership to meet a couple who were buying a brand-new American Tradition motorhome.  

I walked from my painting pavilion down the sidewalk and into the main building. I went through corridors between office cubicles and up to the front door. In front of the dealership the salesman who called waved at me. He introduced me to Gary and Sharon who were interested in a mural.  

“Welcome to Lazydays,” I recited lingo we were all encouraged to use, “congratulations on your new motorhome.” 

  “I understand you want to personalize your coach with a one-of-a-kind airbrushed mural on the back.” 

As my interview progressed, I found out they wanted to portray their interests with both Husky show dogs and their Harley-Davidson motorcycle.  

From their request I began to visualize a snow-covered mountain background with two dogs that flanked the Harley in the center. I also found out when the coach was available for me to begin and scheduled the work to begin upon completion of the current project. 

When I started the work, I found out more about my guests. Gary and Sharon were from Raleigh, North Carolina. They had a large landscaping company. Sharon competed at dog shows across the country. The living room coach was removed to make room for all the dog cages stacked along one side.  

In addition to the motorhome, they also wanted a mural on the side of the trailer that carried their Mustang and the motorcycle. They wanted a sled dog team depicted on the sides with the likeness of seven of their dogs. I created a composition sketch with dramatic perspective to make the lead dog appear larger than all the rest coming toward the viewer. Each succeeding dog was depicted a little smaller with the sled driver standing on the runners in the background. Gary and Sharon became good friends and purchased several other motorhomes and many more murals over the years. 

Another couple from Pennsylvania wanted a mural of a pastoral meadow scene with wildflowers and a deer. As with many of these mural projects, while I painted, they sat and watched. This couple appreciated every little stroke I made. While I painted, they talked. I found out where they were from, how they met, how many grandchildren they had and that the husband always cried at weddings.  

I became especially good at creating custom images. Another couple brought their coach over from service where a large antenna had been installed on the back. He was a ham radio operator. He wanted an image of the world that would depict his ability to talk to anyone. My imagination went to work. I created an image that placed an antenna on a globe of the earth near his home with lightning bolts emanating in all directions.  

Another couple wanted the large military aircraft C-27 depicted on their coach. He had been a pilot and had numerous stories he told the admirers who came to watch the painting underway. The slang for this aircraft was ‘trash hauler.’ One story was about a mission where the aircraft was accompanied by several fighter jets.  

He made an announcement over the radio to all the pilots, “I bet I can do something that you guys can’t.” 

“Watch this.” 

The formation of aircraft continued on their course for several minutes.  

He got back on the radio, “did you see that?” 

“I got up and went to the bathroom.”   

Lots of activity took place here at Lazydays. One of the must-see places the staff mentioned to the guests was my mural art pavilion. When the salesmen gave a tour of the place in a golf cart on the way to show their guests some RV’s, they stopped and pointed out my creative activity. There was plenty to see at this place.   

After lunch, many of our guests walked out the main building along the flower lined sidewalk that threaded through the oak trees past the luxury motorhomes parked in clumps outside to go to the art pavilion to see what was going on.  

My being in the midst of the luxury motorhomes was a coupe. The folks who were here to look at the upper end coaches couldn’t help but notice Letterfly.  

Jack was the self-appointed greeter and endorsed my product. He had an American Tradition coach with a mural on the back. He confided to all our admirers all about the experience of having a mural and gave them an idea to consider about how they could get one free.  

“When you get to the point where the salesman slides the contract to buy across the table for you to sign,” he confided, “just push the contract back across the table and say “I’ll only go for this deal if you throw in a Letterfly mural for the back.” 

Because he gave two seminars a week, Jack met a lot of RV folks. Even if they weren’t buying a mural, these folks enjoyed his banter. 

Sometimes when he returned from a seminar, Jack commanded me to take him in the bus to a particular site on the property. I knew he had given the prize of free lettering to one of the guests. We jumped into the VW bus as if on an emergency run and drove over to where our guest waited. The job was usually names on the entrance door; Ron & Dora Smith, Emmitsburg, Pennsylvania etc. That sort of job could be done on the spot in under an hour and was an appreciated gesture that created good will.  

Many times, I had to modify my schedule to accommodate the customer. While underway with George and Gladys Thompson’s mural, I was told they had to leave first thing in the morning. In addition to having to stay on the job until complete, I had to finish the job in a service bay where the coach was moved to get another issue fixed. George was a pleasant man and appreciated everything we did to get him on his way. As evening turned into night, a fog settled into the area. By midnight I was ready to clear coat. Due to his need to leave in the morning I could not wait. I began to spray.  

The moisture in the air affected my clear urethane. I looked at the finish and saw the normally clear layer was milky. My heart sank. I thought to get my heat gun and discovered that I could heat the wet paint and get the blush to burn out leaving a crystal-clear finish. I was able to finish. We got the Thompson’s on their way. From that point on I never worry about humidity or how it can affect my paint because I know what to do.  

One day, while up on my stretch plank lettering on a coach, the wife came out to ask me a question. 

“Would the artist like a little bit of tibuli?” 

I recognized the name of the Mediterranean dish.  

“No,” I responded flat, “The artist would like a lot of tibuli!”    

She perked up at my surprise answer and we had a famous time. She even gave me her recipe. I was becoming a people person with my customers. My customers were couples I admired. 

In spite of being reluctant around the personnel at this place, I found a few pockets of safety with special people.  

When Jack left for Colorado, I did the seminars. While hanging around the classroom waiting for my crowd, I discovered a friend. Aditi answered the phone for the service department. Her office was next to the classroom where my seminar took place. I could visit with her while I waited for my crowd to show up.  

Between her calls, we talked and laughed about a variety of topics. Aditi was of Indian descent and introduced me to some of her culture and spiritual beliefs. One time I returned from a trip where I had enjoyed a middle eastern restaurant. I told her some of the names of the dishes I liked but she didn’t seem to recognize them. After the next time I went, I brought her the menu. 

“You idiot, this isn’t Indian,” she laughed, “this is Lebanese.” 

  One Christmas I had a special treat. My customers from Illinois were going to camp in my driveway and join me for the holidays. I met Lloyd and Norma McVey at River Ranch years ago. I painted something on everything they owned since. Their first mural was an image of one of their dump trucks on the back of their mauve colored motorhome. Norma was especially fond of pink. All their vehicles had some of this color somewhere in the exterior paint scheme.    

After a severe winter challenged their operation of a fleet of forty trucks, they made the decision to move to a warmer climate. They had a big auction and moved to Florida. Lloyd couldn’t sit still. He discovered a need for material to be delivered at specific times on golf courses and started another fleet of trucks. He only took jobs that could be delivered on time. He built a reputation for being on time and dependable. This became another successful business and a few years later he sold another fleet of forty trucks. Several times, they brought their newest RV to me at Lazydays for another mural.  

When he spec’d out a new Western-Star semi-tractor he wanted the Liberty Lady airbrushed on either side with fireworks explosions in the background. We became good friends the result of all these projects taking place at a regular pace over the years. So, the excursion to my place for Christmas was a natural. 

My friend Tom Gonder also planned to drive down from Michigan for Christmas while the Ford plant shut down for the holidays. I met Tom years ago at the county fair while he hung around and watched me paint T-shirts. He introduced himself as a sign guy. His timing for becoming a sign-maker coincided with the advent of new computer vinyl letter cutting machines that took the bread and butter away from the painters of signs. At first, I was somewhat reluctant with this friendly guy when I realized he was the enemy.  

We became friends and even figured out how to work together using vinyl with some of the carnival ride decoration projects I had underway the next summer. Tom was also an avid fan of drag racing and the tractor pulling contests at the county fairs.  

When I mentioned having guests in their RV at my home over the holidays, I also mentioned their names. 

Tom became excited, “you mean the Lloyd McVey?”    

Tom knew all about my friend. 

“Did you know that Lloyd was the first of the tractor pullers to put multiple engines on his tractor?” he rattled on, “Lloyd had three Mopar engines hooked together in a yellow super-modified tractor named the Super Banana” 

“He’s my hero.” 

At Christmas time my driveway was full of RVs. We gathered around the dining room table. I heard a story about a rival who hooked four Chevrolet engines together in a pulling tractor but still couldn’t beat McVey. I was in awe as Lloyd and Tom traded stories of drag racing and tractor pulling. I couldn’t keep up with them. These two talked about pulling tractors until the wee hours of the night. That Christmas stands out from all the rest when I recollect and compare fond times with good friends. 

Back at Lazydays the mural painting resumed. The pace was relentless. I enjoyed interacting with the endless stream of new couples. Each couple had a story.  One couple from Seattle wanted a mural of their famous skyline made distinct with the Space Needle. They also wanted Mount Rainier in the background. Because of the actual proximity of those features, I used artistic license to create an image with these features appearing together. 

Although social reluctance promoted my withdrawal into the creative realm, as my talent grew, people were attracted to me and I thrived. Through that series of people, I found benefit, emerged from my shell and grew. My life had come full circle. The lessons learned on the road brought me to a special place that also introduced me to the concept of home.  

Transformation had begun as the result of AA. I became interested in others. My customers pursued a dream. They launched themselves onto the road of adventure. I found that road as a teen. Now I was an example to them and a source of encouragement for their aspiration. I found new purpose. I started to see the beauty in others. This was behavior that my mother modeled.  

I found the solution was to see beauty and uplift others. I became a people person. The solution was taking a risk and becoming connected to my community. The reflected love returned me to my roots. My mother became my friend. We talked on a regular basis. 

Through our ongoing intimacy I was blessed again. My eyes were opened. I found magic all around me. I realized I have much to be thankful for. A miracle occurred. A whole series of people had blessed me on this long uphill climb. I had surrounded myself with people who were interested in my success.  Sure, I went through a lot of grief and unfortunate circumstances but my playful spirit came to the surface too. Others were why I succeeded. I have others to thank for getting me here.  I realized that life wasn’t good or bad; life is a blend of good and bad. 

When the summer was over, the time came to head south. I couldn’t wait to see how the RV dealership construction had progressed. I loaded the stock and headed south.  

The demand for high quality airbrushed murals placed me in an earning position that made the pursuit of opportunities to perform with the circus pointless. The remainder of the summer that led up to the Blue Bird rally in October became a blur of motorhome murals. The Blue Bird rally was on the way south.  

The Luce family had sold the company and the dynamic at Wanderlodge changed. I had learned a lot through this stepping stone of my career. I was grateful for the boost received and the opportunities I had found. I enjoyed what became my last Blue Bird rally. Then I made haste to return to Lazydays. 

  With those rallies complete, I returned to Gee Gee’s farm in Florida. At Lazydays I resumed my busy schedule of making murals, giving seminars and treated every situation with reverence. 

I continued to live in my horse trailer. I found out about a large horse barn a mile from Lazydays. Boarding my horse would free me up to work late. Souveran summed up his performing career in a single moment when I led him into that big comfortable barn filled with working cow and pleasure horses – he breathed one big sigh of relief. 

George Aldridge was the tall, strapping cowboy who ran this barn. His specialty was reining horses though he came from a lineage of meat cutters. The seventeen-acre property was once a destination for cattle to get cut up. The building where that activity took place was razed to make room as urban sprawl required the road out front to become eight lanes.  

George had a valuable piece of property. He knew someday the corner would fetch a handsome sum. For now, the large arenas and riding areas were utilized by cowboys who came to not only learn something from George but to put their horses in training with this gifted horseman. George began preparing a place in Ocala for his eventual home.  

My horse became my hobby. After work, I took a break from the rigors of painting on motorhomes. I spent time in the evenings perfecting trot work, canter work and the flexibility of horse and rider. This work began over two decades ago. I started with a 4-H horse in Clarklake and over the years utilized an impressive series of mentors.  

I started taking dressage lessons with an attractive dark-haired product of the sixties with a tired voice. Sharon was from Michigan and knew many of the dressage people I knew. Sharon had a precise way of sharing what she saw with a command of language with which to get her observation across.  

Our lessons were mostly recreational, as now my role as the resident artist at Lazydays took priority. I had no desire to beat myself up on the road with other opportunities to perform. I enjoyed the shift in my horsemanship focus. Perhaps to sharpen my skills as dressage rider for some other purpose would be practical, but the reality remained that this was now my hobby.    

While I lived in my horse trailer at Gee Gee’s, I resigned to the fact that I would probably always be living in a horse trailer. A circus family from Russia camped there too. I learned some of their language and enjoyed their food.  

One of the first men I met at Lazydays was also an AA member. Lee went out of his way to welcome me to the company. He also told me about a healing ministry called Overcomers at a nearby church. With my permanent painting situation, I got plugged into weekly social activities. I began to regularly attend this evening gathering.  

Overcomer’s was a blend of the twelve steps mixed with gospel. I became an avid member and progressed into facilitator at my men’s group. I remained dedicated to this ministry for several years.  

Being an artist in a permanent situation also provided me with the ability to see Barry on a regular basis. The drive to Anna Maria Island became a welcome respite. Barry and I attended local plays, orchestra concerts and the Opera at Sarasota.  

I learned that Tom Selleck had purchased a home on the island. One sunny afternoon I made myself busy. I picked up sticks and tidied up Barry’s yard. A week later I talked to her on the phone. Barry couldn’t contain her laughter. She reported getting a phone call from one of her curious neighbors.  

“What was Tom Selleck doing in your yard?” 

I attended the Lazydays monthly company meetings that occurred early before work where the entire staff of four hundred employees assembled in the cafeteria. I watched as new employees were welcomed into the company and salesmen received awards for selling large amounts of motorhomes. I was amazed to be part of this large company but also noticed social dynamics that reminded me of the playground of my youth.  

I felt awkward in that setting. There were too many people. I wanted to fit in. I attended the company meetings but never did receive the welcome gesture the new employees received. 

I arrived at Lazydays before sunrise and often worked past sunset. The rigorous pace of mural production remained steady throughout the year. Out at my studio, in the peaceful setting beneath old growth trees I had a safe place. This was my think tank for ideas. With a steady stream of customers, I stayed in production mode, I was happy.  

I attended the weekly CSI class, taught by Don Wallace. He introduced us to the foundation principles that built this company. He encouraged the use of common sense and introduced the hospitality mindset. Keeping these success principles foremost in my mind mixed with healing perceptions acquired at Overcomer’s. These learning opportunities lifted my attitude and perception. As I remained intentional with my attitude and regard for others I was lifted into a new realm of gratitude.  

One concept stressed by Mister Wallace was to reach out to another department head whenever a problem occurred that was out of our league. There were times when this happened to me. My entire career I handled everything myself. Here with this large company when I had such a problem, I entered into the scary realm of interacting with others. 

  Moving into these exchanges gave me an opportunity to grow. Sometimes I experienced the desired result but other times I witnessed behavior that actually ran counter to what Mister Wallace taught. Many personal agendas were the opposite of what would benefit the company and our clients. 

Fortunately, I had Jack. He was familiar with corporate insanity and coached me on how to go about getting things done in this environment. Regardless, these lessons on how to get along with others augmented the healing work started years ago with AA. These new lessons rocketed me into another chapter of my life.  

I found an ally in the marketing department. Tony was helpful with adding Letterfly to the amenities in all the Lazydays marketing. I continued with the marketing strategies started at River Ranch that got me here. I generated special brochures, photo books with examples of RV art for the customers waiting lounge and the sales staff. Jack helped me with selling concepts like providing a cash spiff to a salesman whose referral purchased a mural. I wrote, published (again with the help of the Ridge Printing company) and mailed out a printed newsletter to my client base all the news of this incredible situation at Lazydays. 

I discovered many reasons to become relational in this setting. New friendships blossomed as I tried new ways of connecting. A little at a time, I became a company man. Letterfly and Lazydays would grow together for many years to come. 

The time spent in this lovely oak hammock became, not only a haven for creativity, but a gathering place for guests to be entertained while they waited for repairs to be completed. Others perused the new motor homes on display at this incredible destination, the largest RV dealership anywhere. Each day, many guests made the pilgrimage to the Letterfly painting pavilion to see what was going on. 

R.J. took a personal interest in my creative offerings. During his frequent walks around the property, he stopped and talked with me about what else we could do for the guests. I began to think in terms of new services in addition to personal murals for the back of the coach. Our ideas for entry doors became little dog portraits, gold leaf monograms and hand lettered inscriptions of all kinds. I also began to pinstripe cars and trucks and even create spectacular graphics to make the tow car match the rig. 

The motor home buying frenzy was on. Folks were selling their homes to become full-timers, those who lived in their coach year-round. Money was available to borrow and flowed like water. Jack and I enjoyed the crowds that flocked to see what was going on at this place. 

We started each day with breakfast at a nearby diner. His argumentative style of conversation took getting used to. Once I realized this was his style of relationship, I caught on and entered the fray. Soon, aggressive banter took place between us at the restaurant and became another source of fascination for the onlookers he thrived on. 

Curious people stopped by to admire the work that took place. Those were the days of painting plenty of eagles. This was partly due to the patriotic nature of the icon and also due to the name of the Fleetwood motor home flagship; The American Eagle.   

Sometimes they asked, “what did you paint yesterday?”  

During my thirty-year career, my mind remained occupied with imagining that which does not yet exist. I don’t try to remember what I just did. I look into the future to visualize possibilities and unique new goals. In an effort to provide a helpful answer to those curious admirers and to have a private laugh between us, Jack and I came up with a standard answer to their query about what we did yesterday. 

“An eagle.”  

We laughed. We figured we had a fifty-fifty chance of being right. 

Jack fortified his tough guy persona with stories from when he was a Dade County cop, Air Force guy, Bail Bondsman, Stock Broker and later as a car salesman. The larger than life episodes kept anyone who listened, gripping the edge of their seat. Jack was an avid and talented story teller.  

Although toughness permeated the surface, Jack had a heart filled with love and dedication for the many people, principles and activities he was immersed in.  

“My father told me long ago,” Jack revealed, “life is a little bit tragic, and a little bit magic. Cherish the magic.” 

That was the sentiment that graced his motor home and was the name of his book.     

Those days were fun. The art pavilion was a gathering place for the curious to see the creativity taking place each day and to engage in friendly banter with Jack. I was up on the walk plank with an airbrush behind a motor home all day. Jack sat in his folding chair in his jacket and shorts. 

Jack arrived to accompany me at Lazydays at the perfect time. His familiarity with how corporate throngs work and his confidence in this setting provided the perfect segue for me to find my way. He recognized my need. Jack became my big brother and coached me in regard to producing apropos behavior with the staff of the large corporation, maintaining a positive mentality, attitude and appreciation for my role in this situation.  

A little at a time, I entered into relationship with department heads. Each week I attended our class on customer service instruction, called CSI, taught by the founder. In that situation I received instruction and encouragement. The founder’s son Don Wallace taught rules for success, encouraged the use of common sense and reinforced our overall purpose – to make customers for life. 

  I acquired positive, ennobling concepts for practical thinking, the use of common sense and dedication to provide the customer with an outstanding product. We were taught to go an extra length with every task to make our customers experience something that would insure they wouldn’t think of shopping anywhere else.  

As I became comfortable in my role as resident artist and interacted with fellow personnel, I received inspiration for additional offerings. One employee mentioned an idea about my giving a seminar that would be an interesting value-added attraction for the guests to enjoy at Lazydays.  

I was inspired. I began to prepare information about RV mural art. I filled a few sheets of paper with notes about facts important to me. The inaugural seminar was soon on the calendar. As the time approached, Jack returned from another trip and planned to attend. Two couples showed up for my first seminar. Not being much of a speaker at that time, I simply sat down at the table with my guests and read the notes I had prepared. Jack slumped down in his chair and drew his hat down over his eyes. 

            When the seminar was over, he had something to say.  

He announced, “From now on I will give the seminars.” 

I was shocked. 

            “You can’t possibly do that,” I squawked, “you don’t know anything about painting murals on motor homes.” 

            “I don’t have to,” he boasted, “I can make up an entertaining seminar on the spot about virtually anything.”  

He continued, “I’ve been giving seminars on a variety of topics for years.”  

Confidence radiated from his being. He took a stance that invited further defiance. 

“It matters naught that I know nothing about painting a mural.” 

            I was about to enter the realm of having Jack  teach me the art of giving a seminar,  

            Jack aimed his creative mind at structuring a series of entertaining concepts to include in his talk about the aspects of motor home art. Fun was priority as well as an opportunity to enlighten and interact with the audience. He included revealing stories about being a mural customer himself to endorse the experience. He even handled getting the seminars logged onto the Lazydays activity calendar. Two of these talks took place each week. His seminars couldn’t help but improve.  

            Jack loved an audience. He soon made posters and taped them on the entry doors in high traffic areas, on bulletin boards and in the café. These posters announced the seminar he aptly named; “Rolling Art,…Why a Mural?”  

I was somewhat anxious about trashing up the dealership with tacky flyers, but my attempt to voice concern went unnoticed. The frenzy of his activity not only filled the classroom with curious RVers, but the seminar became the most popular and heavily attended of all that took place. I resigned my concern and joined the fray. I created attractive poster art for Jack to use that included his idea to generate even more excitement; “win a mural!”  

Jack poked fun at everyone that attended. He found out where they called home and made jokes about those places. Quick to laud the efforts of military veterans, a big part of his message included popular notions of patriotism and gratitude for the freedom we enjoy, thanks to the efforts of those in the military. 

            Jack’s seminar started with an announcement, “I am going to first tell you what this seminar is not going to be about. This is not going to be a situation where I try to sell you something. I am here to share with you the experience of having a mural on the back of my motorhome and how that experience adds to the fun of roaming across this great country.”   

To introduce his audience to what they would learn, he established a series of steps that used a clever visual aid on the chalkboard. He used MURALS as an acronym. Each letter stood for an important concept. He prompted his audience to guess each word and gave them a hint of what each letter stood for with humorous results.  

He encouraged audience participation for two reasons; one, he wanted them ready with ideas later in the seminar, and two; often their guesses became opportunities for funny retorts as he continued to poke fun at everyone. His example of humorous responses introduced me to an effective way to communicate to an audience.  

After he introduced the guests as to what to expect by having rolling art on their motor home, he explained the steps that went into the production of a high-quality mural. This was to produce savvy consumers. Then he introduced them to what they could expect from having a mural on their motor home, from the other drivers on the highway and their fellows at the campgrounds while they travel this wonderful land. 

            The seminar concluded with a contest. One contestant – usually a combat veteran Jack selected and got approval from the rest of the audience – was asked a couple of ridiculous unanswerable questions. The contest was yet another way to add suspense while Jack poked fun at the current popular television game show final answer. After the grand prize question was revealed – a super simple query – his guest won a certificate for some free lettering.  

            The enthusiasm Jack had for this task was epidemic and became part of the conversation that swept through the staff and the population that frequented this place. The best result of his efforts were the curious RVers who followed him out to the mural pavilion afterwards to schedule mural work. For that I was grateful.  

            The result of witnessing how Jack composed and handled this seminar provided me with a big boost. When Jack returned to Colorado in the spring, I began presenting the seminar. As the result of his example, I created a talk that fit my style; an entertaining and enlightening talk of my own.  

Things were hopping. Lazydays acquired an additional fifty acres. Expansion began. The main building would get bigger. Two hundred service bays were planned and construction of a giant campgrounds began. As the season wound down into the dog days of early summer, I headed north to pursue my passion 

Between rallies in the fall of the year, I returned a phone call from a man in Colorado.

“I want a mural of a majestic eagle flying over the Rocky Mountains,” I listened to a gravelly request over the phone, “on the back of my motor home.”

The voice continued, “with an American flag flying in the background.”

Then he added, “and I must have the caption Cherish the Magic underneath.

I visualized this image with the phone against my ear.

“I will be happy to paint that for you,” I replied.

We then discussed the logistics of getting this project done. He was coming to Florida from Colorado for the winter. I would do the work at Lazydays.

            I received calls such as this regularly. As Letterfly, I was in my ninth year as an artist with the specialty of painting airbrushed murals on motor homes. Jack heard about me in Colorado. Having frequented rallies all over the country, my reputation as the premier creator of high-quality artwork was established.

When my tour was over, I returned to Lazydays as the resident artist during late 1995.

The situation at this dealership proved to be right. I found an endless stream of folks who wanted beautiful murals to enhance the appearance of their RVs.

A few days later, my customer from Colorado arrived. He was amazed with this sprawling sixty-acre facility. Once he settled on his campsite, the work began.

During this embryonic time at Lazydays, I conducted my business the same way I did at the multitude of rallies attended throughout the previous summers, and as the resident artist at River Ranch during the previous eight winters. Wherever I found an opportunity, I set up my apparatus and began to paint. I started on Jack’s mural.

His motor home was parked in the shade of the trees in the camping area of the dealership. Curious couples stopped by to investigate my industry. This meant we had an audience. Jack began to pour forth a whole retinue of amazing personal recollections along with announcements about the mural taking shape. I discovered Jack was a gifted story teller. While he talked, he endorsed my product. I kept the focus of my attention on all aspects of the project at hand.

Jack was blunt. He had a salt and pepper beard with a physique that at one time was similar to mine but was now compromised due to a bone disease. He was stoop-shouldered with a hunch back but that didn’t stop his relentless drive to remain the center of attention.

From the start, I was impressed with his friendly banter, the manly references to God and country and the way he poked fun at his plight with bone disease. He referred to his stooped six-foot frame as an egg with feet. Jack traveled alone in his big motor home with a German shepherd named ‘Dawg.’

                The procedure for prepping a coach was the same as it had been for almost a decade.   First, I set up two step ladders and a walk plank behind the back of the coach. I cleaned and sanded the area to receive the paintwork.  I then taped paper and bisquine to protect the adjacent areas of the coach from the protective clear coat applied last.

I harvested reference pictures of all kinds while looking through nature and art magazines. When I discovered an interesting image, I ripped the page out of the magazine to file away in my swipe file. While in the development stage of this mural, I went to my swipe file and found the rocky mountain folder. Inside were images of snow-capped mountains. In the eagle folder, I found an eagle with wings outstretched in flight just as Jack had described.

Using these images as reference, I drew a scale drawing to establish my composition that would also include the caption ‘Cherish the Magic’ across the base of the painting. Once the sketch was complete and Jack approved, I proceeded to draw the image full-size onto the now ready back-end cap of the motor home.

Using the traditional skills of a sign man, learned as an apprentice in the seventies, I scaled up from the reference picture, drew an exact depiction using simple mathematics and a yard stick. The use of these techniques over the years resulted in the development of my ability to see what I am looking at and draw what I see any size. 

Once the particulars of the project were clear in my mind the work commenced. Jack’s conversation continued. Soon I became familiar with the great childhood he had in Fort Lauderdale along with tropical adventures that occurred as a teen. I also heard facets of the varied career roles that took him many places. He told exciting anecdotes. All were fantastic and some difficult to believe. With the steady stream of factoids, reminiscences, opinions and anecdotes that poured forth as I painted, I became acquainted with a being who loved to talk.

“I contain a plethora of superfluous information,” he bragged.

Jack was quick to share an opinion about virtually any topic that came up. I soon found out that it didn’t matter to this inquisitive, analytic mind which side of an argument he was on. What he loved most was the argument. At that time, I still lingered on being shy. I was cautious and wanted to make the best possible impression at this mega dealership. At first, I was meek about the bragging and boisterous banter he produced.

At Lazydays, I found an obstacle to production I hadn’t encountered before. Due to the tremendous amount of traffic in and out of this place, every RV parking space was designated for a particular length of time. If I had an opportunity for a mural but it occurred at the end of our guests stay on the property, they had to leave. I had no place to do the work.

While I worked on Jack’s motor home under the tall pine and oak trees in the guest camping area, he became familiar with this plight. I didn’t know it at the time but his analytic mind had begun to percolate.  Later, Jack became instrumental with the creation of a solution.

            When the mural on the back of his motor home was complete, to say he was happy would be an understatement. He was elated.

“I’m going to head down to Miami and hang around with my old cronies,” he announced.

He had been a Dade County policeman years ago and hadn’t seen his old beat in years.  I bid adieu to my new friend and he drove away. Then I resumed my duties around the dealership.

R.J. Wos had interest in my enterprise. He became familiar with the occasional parking frustration I encountered. He encouraged me to park the next motorhome in the patio area where the guests were served hot dogs for lunch. He appreciated the entertainment aspect of what I was doing. Soon, another motor home was on display for me to work on in front of the guests as they consumed lunch. This situation also helped to sell the next project. I stayed busy.

Two weeks later, I received another call from Jack.

            “Hey Dave,” he stated, “I’m planning a return trip to Lazydays.”

            “Great.”          

“There’s a seafood buffet nearby in Kissimmee,” He continued, “I plan to drive over there one night.”

Then he added, “you can go with me.”

“I’d be happy to go.”

When he got back to Lazydays, Jack told me about his visit to Miami. He went to the neighborhood where he grew up and saw some of his old officer friends. He told additional tales of manly adventure and about doing incredible deeds as a cop that established him as a legend.

While on the way to the seafood buffet, out of the blue he asked, “where are you going to watch the Super bowl?”

I hadn’t even thought about that.

He then announced, “you can watch the game with me in my motor home.”

We enjoyed an extensive buffet that night.

I was flexible in my role as resident artist and had the ability to include a companion in my professional routine at the dealership. On the following busy days Jack joined me wherever I was at Lazydays while I created art on motorhomes. While with me, he provided a relentless flow of conversation.  

Jack befriended a service writer. He soon had a free parking spot with electricity for the winter season.  A week later he asked if I wanted to accompany him to another buffet near Disney where he claimed he would eat his body weight in Lobster. Later still, he planned an excursion for us to Universal Studios. When Super Bowl Sunday arrived, I enjoyed his hospitality and the luxury of his coach while we watched the game.

During a lull in the game, Jack confided, “I’m having more fun hanging around you than I did with my old cronies back in Miami.”

At the dealership we became inseparable, almost joined at the hip. Jack lounged in his folding chair all day, nursed a diet Pepsi, and held court with anyone who walked by. Up on the walk plank between two step ladders, I entertained guests while I painted beautiful airbrushed murals on an endless stream of motor homes.  Jack provided running commentary. As we bonded, I shared with him my concern about the lack of a dedicated parking situation for my guests with motor home projects.  This caused occasional frustration in my role as resident artist.

            I told him about a letter I had written to management that addressed my need for a dedicated area in which to work. He asked to see a copy of the letter. The next day I showed it to him.

After his perusal, he asked; “you didn’t send this did you?”

Sheepishly, I revealed, “yes, I did.”

He winced for an exact theatrical moment of time. Then, as he thought about the letter, confidence surfaced. Jack calculated his next move.

After pause for effect, he announced, “I think I can fix it.” 

A competent writer, Jack revealed to me the story about a book he had written; a novel about a dog handler in Vietnam. Although he didn’t go to Vietnam, part of his military experience was being trained as a dog handler. Before he was sent overseas, his orders were redlined. He spent the rest of his Air Force career as a guard on Air Force One protecting President Nixon.   

Jack wrote another letter and showed it to me.  It started off by commending the brilliance of having an artist in place to not only serve the customer but create the premise of a unique destination which would help the overall business thrive. Next, he introduced the value of maximizing this opportunity to create an attraction for the guests to enjoy by designating a specific area for the creation of art. A place that would become one of the most memorable on the property.

The management of Lazydays selected the prettiest place on the property for my studio: a specific location surrounded by park benches and lush garden areas in an old oak hammock. I erected a carport roof for my studio. This lovely, quiet spot in the midst of large oak trees became known as the art pavilion, a special place in which Letterfly thrived for the next thirteen years.

“Nature is infinitely creative.
It is always producing the possibility of new beginnings”

Marianne Williamson

A New Beginning

      At the end of the winter season I went to Lazydays to embrace opportunity. Nine years on the rally circuit established my reputation as being the top producer of airbrushed murals. Lazydays made it attractive for me to set up shop at their new expanded dealership destination.

       I went through orientation classes and got familiar with the property. I generated new brochures and placed them throughout the complex. Plenty of traffic frequented Lazydays. I became busy. This giant dealership placed me in the big leagues but would soon throw a curve ball. I felt my way around that spring and soon realized I needed help. An advocate was on the horizon.

       At first, I was complimented. I had never been around a large corporation with hundreds of employees before and the energy at this place was intense. When I arrived to assume my role as resident artist, my first inclination was to be socially reluctant. I sensed a need to be cautious in spite of their welcome. True to my personality style, I remained immersed in my craft producing incredible painted images. I had fun with my customers and stuck to myself.

       I explained to R.J. about prior commitments – rallies that were booked and my annual Blue Bird excursion – I agreed to return for the upcoming season to create murals as their resident artist. After another summer on the road, I returned to Florida with my horse and mule. I parked the rig nearby at Gee Gee Engesser’s farm and had a short daily commute to Lazydays. This opportunity opened up a new chapter in my life. I now had a place to thrive and be blessed in countless ways.

By this time demand for airbrushed murals on motorhomes had reached epic proportions. I stayed in a work frenzy every time I landed in a group of RVs’. I had an efficient system for accomplishing the work by this time. I carried seven step ladders and three stretch planks. Because a rally was typically four days long, I wanted to clinch four jobs and get set up behind four motorhomes right away. Four projects partially started insured their commitment. Then I efficiently completed them assembly-line fashion. But I had to hustle.    

The RV dealerships at these big rallies were just as busy. The motorhome frenzy had begun. Rigs were traded in on new ones and the sales staff in golf carts went everywhere. Several times I received a hand signal from one man in particular on a golf cart. 

“Hey,” he shouted, “I want to talk to you.” 

I recognized him. I had seen this guy before at several of the rallies I attended but we were always so busy we never did get a chance to talk. I found out later that he was with an RV dealership in Tampa called Lazydays. I also learned Lazydays was moving from their original sales lot to a huge piece of property outside of town.   

Near the end of the winter season in 1994 at River Ranch I received a phone call. This same man from Lazydays wanted to talk to me. When my winter gig was over, I drove up to Tampa to meet R.J. Wos.  

RJ gave me a tour of the sprawling dealership complex under construction and I listened to his pitch. He explained to me that the sales staff grew every year and populated an acre of cubicles. The reception area was flanked with finance, insurance and managers’ offices. The service department boasted a hundred service bays.  

There were class rooms for product representatives, a lunch room and a comfortable waiting area for the guests who populated the interior of the main building. The outside had a labyrinth of new product display areas, camping spots and parking. Lovely gardens surrounded the inventory lots where hundreds of new motor homes and tow-ables were on display.   

The goal of the founder was to make this a one-stop RV destination with everything you could think of for an RV available on the property. Having the ability to get a custom painted mural on the back of your motorhome was part of his vision. R.J. wanted me to bring my artistic services to Lazydays and make this my home. All the stops had been pulled out to make this a fun place and they wanted more. RJ wanted me to start right away.  

I had made a commitment at River Ranch but things were changing. When the promotion company left, they handed the property management duties over to the property owners. The entire dynamic changed. The dude ranch became just another restricted community. Differing agendas between lot owners promoted bickering. I still had work to do but now, if one person had an issue with any aspect of my activity there would be a showdown in the street.  

Someone had an issue with my horse trailer not having an RVIA badge on it. That unleashed a flurry of rhetoric. I was forced to hire an RV inspector to make sure my rig met specifications. After his inspection he assured me that I was being exposed to ‘bullshit.’ There was nothing wrong with my rig. 

Barry enjoyed spending weekends with me. One evening we wound down while enjoying our meal in the Branding Iron restaurant. I let my fork sink into my slice of German chocolate cake. As I let the flavor steep into my taste buds, the security officer came into the restaurant and up to my table. He announced that the golf cart on my lot was parked illegally with one tire on the grass. My heart sank. I withdrew. The feeling of elation evaporated on the spot. 

“Don’t shut me out,” Barry put her hand on mine.  

She reminded me of her presence.  

Volleys of hurtful attacks went back and forth between all my colleagues at the Ranch – all the result of fear. The ranch sank into a dark period of neglect, bickering and confusion. Thank goodness another door was opening.  

The future for River Ranch looked bleak. The Hey-Day of River Ranch was over.  The developers who hyped the conventions, rallies, fly-ins and get-togethers were gone. The electricity they brought to this cozy Dude Ranch was now but a memory. I remain thankful for the many years of opulence and creativity and the opportunity to complete a large body of airbrushed work on motor homes. My exposure at River ranch served to establish the name Letterfly in the RV community. Working in this luxury setting was an important stepping-stone for an emerging artist. 

The indelible mark made by the quartet of bachelors I was part of remains. I am grateful for the richness that friendship brought, a richness unsurpassed by wealth and longer lasting than even monuments of stone left in the desert.  The gratitude that radiates from my being to this day is testimony enough to my years at River Ranch.