2-10-11 daddy drawrings

Alright, Bob is probably going to kill me for this one, but it's about time I bragged on him in this blog.

On of the first things I remember seeing him do (other than losing to me at chess -- that was the first time we met) is draw. We were on a long drive with the college church group when he curled up and started sketching to pass the time.

Before we met he'd earned enough dough to afford his apartment by working at the local El Chico. He started by bussing tables, but during the down times, he would entertain the kids by pulling one of the balloons the cashier would hand out at the exit and ask them what they would like to have drawn on their balloons. This was the late 80s, so he got really good at Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

After a while, that was his job, and people would get upset on his nights off when they learned the "balloon guy" wasn't working.

When the kids came along, he pulled the sharpies back out for parties and let the kids made their requests.

Nicholas also journalled every day in kindergarten and first grade and on the weekends he brought it home, with Mrs. Mock's request that the parents read his week's work and then journal a page (with drawing) for their student to discover on Monday.

So what started as a quick sketch turned more and more elaborate as the weeks progressed, because Mrs. Mock informed us that Bob's drawings were eagerly anticipated by everyone in the class each Monday.

And throughout the early years, especially when he was working the night shift with those long, dark, hours to fill, he would bring me a doodle and leave it for me to find when I would get up in the morning.

Then there were the comic book sketches. . .

Lots of swashbuckling knights. . .


And of course, old friends. . .

And somewhere in there he drew his sister Melissa a set of Greek Gods, which we transferred to overhead transparencies and blew up to poster size for her to hang around her classroom.



He also created a new set of superheroes

And partnering with his friend Don, whom he met when he was working a second job as a security guard for the little Hunstville mall. Don was an owner of the comic book shop in the mall and an amazing pen and ink guy. This is one of their pages from the Four Horsemen comic.

When Nicholas was very little, maybe 5 months old, we went down to a ComicCon in Houston where George Perez was going to be. I persuaded Bob to take his stuff and just ask George for some pointers. He'd gotten one rejection letter from DC Comics before we met and really didn't want to share his stuff. I was sure Perez would see a young, struggling artist and boost him up. Instead, he crushed him -- not one thing positive. George Perez . . . no comment.

Samantha got her Daddy's talent and he's always after her to keep at it, but she's always turning that back around on him and asking him when he's going to start practicing again himself.

As evidenced by the dust on the portfolio, he might just need some public shame to get him going.

I think this might count ;)

(P.S. I am already steeling myself for the same argument we have been having for 20 years: I can't push him about drawing without getting push back on writing. Bring it.)