Painting to Look Good or Better

Submitted by Don and Peg Doman.

A while back Georgia and I had moved into our new house, just shy of our 10th wedding anniversary. It wasn’t our home yet, but we so wanted it to feel welcoming, with the joy of a family home and not just a house. Georgia had furniture from her mom and dad. After the furniture was brought in, Georgia relaxed and seemed to melt into both the past and the future. She was pleased and in love with our new home and excellent yard.

We had marveled at the inside of the home, but knew the exterior was lacking. We had the paint colors we wanted, paint brushes, two ladders, and me excited and anxious to make our new house our home.

Georgia went visiting friends for a week while I painted the exterior. I so wanted her to enjoy the new look and the feeling of our home both inside and out. I scraped and painted all day and was so proud of myself. After my bath and fresh comfortable clothes, I went back outside in the remaining light and looked at all the work I had done so far.

As I was walking around our new house, I saw a neighbor looking at both me and the house where I had painted. I went over and introduced myself. “Making yourself a little quick money for you and the family?” he asked.” No, I said, we love the area and we think we could stay here forever. I was beaming until I saw the look on the old man’s face. I looked him directly in the face and asked “You don’t like it for some reason?”

The senior nodded and said, “It’s fine for a rental, but as a wonderful home for a possibly growing family, it lacks feeling.

I stared at the old man, but held back the words I was thinking of using. He simply shrugged his shoulders and said “Take a close look, and think about it.

Pissed off and feeling wounded, the hurt feelings were ruining my day. While it was still fairly light, I walked about the house, proud of my work, but by the time I was done, I was less confident and a little worried. I went back to the neighbor’s door and knocked. He asked for a closer inspection of what he had perhaps been trying to tell me. He was friendly enough and seemed pleased to see me and to talk. He invited me to breakfast the next morning.

The next day I came over early and of course he already had the kitchen table set and the food nearly ready to eat and drink. He told me about painting a simple house. He talked about the paint colors, the brushes, and being exact with the brush strokes, and possibly the need for sun shades to keep some areas from fading.

I liked his own little story of how he first became a painter. He carefully told a story of years ago. He had painted part of the side of one house. The owner had jumped all over him and said, “I’ve got a six-year-old kid who can paint better than you can.” My face went red as the neighbor continued the story. The expert pointed out several bad strokes. I looked closely and realized that his work as a youngster was better than what I could do. He gave me some pointers and wrote them all down. I still have the notes and I worked hard to keep up with the effort of a six-year-old.”

I made note of everything the old man said, and asked him to work with me. We worked together and by the end of the job the old man said, “I’m proud of you.”

When my wife joined me and looked at the newly painted house she said, “Wow. I was afraid of what you wanted to paint and everything, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” I was relieved and joyful. We have lived here for ten years and other than a little touch up here and there, it’s still as beautiful as one other home on the block.