Thomas L. Tribby ArtistLife Lesson
Hello
If this is your first visit, welcome to Musings. Today I am musing about memories. If you have been here before, welcome back. Over time we are going to talk about many things: the past, the present, perhaps the future, travel,
Big Brother
Peter about age 28
For some reason I have found myself thinking of Pete, my older brother. I don’t know why. He died in 2014.
Growing up, I idolized him. I thought he was great.
To him I think I was sort of an irritant. He was nearly seven when I was born, ending his only-child-center-of-attention position. He had to share.
I don’t remember much until I was about five. It must have been a tumultuous time as my father and mother separated twice ending in divorce. My mother remarried and we moved to a small town, Kingman, Arizona, where my half-sister and half-brother were born.
Here are pictures of my older bother and me about that time.
Aren’t I cute? My grandmother crocheted the toy for me. I called it “Brownie”.
Pete came into his own. There were two newspaper routes in town. Pete had both. As a result, he had more spending money than my parents.
He got into photography and had a dark room at the house. I remember him taking time exposures at night of lightning and, later, watching the image emerge in the chemical bath.
He had traps he set in the desert Among his successes, he caught a skunk which sprayed him and the dog. Mom wouldn’t let him in the house until he took off all his clothes.
He built a Soapbox Derby car. The neighborhood kids were envious and he let them ride it down hill. He let me do that once.
He had four- ten (4.10) shotgun and became a good shot., even winning a turkey at a turkey shoot.
I was proud he was my brother.
One of his favorite pursuits was making model airplanes, the kind that came in a kit of balsa wood which, once assembled, was covered with thin paper to form the skin of the plane. Here is a modern version.
He made many of these. They were powered by a rubber band connected to the propellor. Wind that baby up and away would fly your plane.
His biggest had a six foot wingspan. It crashed and damaged the propellor so he made it into a glider by inserting a rock into the nose and launching it into the wind. An up-current caught it and took it up and away. Several weeks later, while out checking on his traps, he came across it broken, hanging in a tree . . . six miles from where he threw it.
All this was magic to me and I wanted to make a plane.
I pestered and pestered.
Finally, my mother told him to help me make a model.
Not too happy about it, he helped me assemble the wings and fuselage . It took time. There were so many pieces that needed glued and assembled. The glue had to cure. takes time. The body had to be assembled and glued — more time. Then the wings — more time.
So, we worked on this after school for several days. He probably did most of the actual assembly. I no longer remember.
Putting the paper on the model was the most vexing as I recall. It had to be done carefully with no tears or creases.
Finally, one night it was done and it was a beauty, a Piper Cub. I was thrilled.
The next day I took it out in the yard. Across the street I saw a girl I knew at school.
I shouted, “Hey wanna see my plane?” as I ran toward her.
My foot caught on a wire hidden in the tall grass, tripping me. I fell on the plane, smashing it.
There must be a life lesson here. I’m just not certain what it is.
On A Different Note
MORE TO COMEI
I used to be a banker, but then I lost interest
Today I promote my work through Art Store Fronts (www.ttribby.com) and Fine Art America and I show work locally at Jennifer Garrigues and Palm Beach FrameMakers in Palm Beach
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