Self Portrait with Ammo Box-  I drew this a couple of years into my life with John. The ammo box represents him. After serving our country in Vietnam he came home a changed young man because he’d loved the people there and his brothers in arms and saw many of them killed and damaged. So he came home to his Mommy and Daddy’s house he was unable to function for a few years.  When I met him I wasn’t functioning, then together we carried each others loads and grew up and grew better together.

Yesterday was his funeral which became a wonderful measuring rod. John  had not only lifted and healed me but gave me the strength to totally enjoy his work buddies, war brothers, neighbors, blood family, and church family. I’d say John hadn’t simply influence these people for good but was a BOMB of joy, and enlightenment, mystery, and surprise in all our lives.

I drew my self portrait in Crayola crayons- kid’s colors. Aren’t we all kids anyway with ages layered on top?  nancymauerman.com

Slf Portrait With Ammo Box

Out of the crack in the clouds comes an angle with a message, which is a question. “Do you remember when scrubbing the toilet looked like fun?” One secret to life is to use the words,’work’ and ‘play’ interchangeably!  nancymauerman.com

Crack In Clouds

I looked out my window and what did I see- a stranger bringing in my trash can for me. John, my husband, and I both have cancer. He has lost weight, his fat is completely gone, his muscles are just a shadow of his old warrior self and I do believe his bones are lighter too, he has leukemia. I’ve recently had breast surgery so as a result I’m not to lift, and John can’t so when our neighbors asked to help John asked for our trash cans to by rolled out to the street every other week. (The nice trash man comes only every other week because we live in Portland Oregon and our city proudly aspires to be, “like the third world.” It works we now have rats.)

So like I said, several weeks later when I ‘d healed enough to roll the cans out and in I was very late in doing so because I was so sad for John’s discomfort and hurting because I miss the old John will soon miss the entire John, I just couldn’t face going out the door. Late in the day and out of the corner of my eye I see a woman I don’t know bring my cans around and park them in their place.

I know all but a few on my block and John and I had in the past brought other peoples’ cans in for them if the garbage was picked up came after they’d left for work. In this way burglars won’t think,”Ah ha! The cans are left out- someone’s not home!”  So all I can think is that the idea has spreed and some nice person I haven’t met helped. I love America.

By the way Harry, in the below picture, is a neighbor who has since moved and has never seen his picture, which will immortalize him forever. He’s a pretty old fashioned guy and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings or confuse him because I didn’t paint what he “looks like” but instead I made a picture of his energy and love for his two giant dogs that lived with him in a tiny house.  nancymauerman.com

Harry The Brain Surgeon