We are at the kitchen table. Him with his airbrush and substrates and paints. Me with my markers and coloring book. The air compressor that generally kicks on, fills up the tank with air, and then turns off, is in the middle of the living room in our open floor plan downstairs. It's a Husky. I will never forget that. I always thought that was such a funny name for an air compressor brand. I know it probably is to indicate ruggedness on job sites, durability for a long time, and the ability to keep up, but to me it just sounds like a gassy puppy.
Orion the Husky, one of Bill Kennedy's first pet portraits
So the Husky? It's in the middle of the living room floor and not close to the table because some valve or switch or whatnot has stopped working. This means when my husband's airbrush runs out of air he sweetly says, "Babe?" with that adorable little boy look and I sigh. I set my markers down, I walk over to the Husky and manually turn the switch so the compressor begins to run it's motor and fill up it's tank. I monitor the gauge until it gets close to full and then I manually switch the Husky back off. Then I return to my seat at the kitchen table and pick my markers back up.
Why? Why do you do that? Isn't that why you have kids? Har-dee-har-har. Ok yes, it is. Partly. But kids also have homework and studying and sometimes they just plain don't do what you ask. Or they're so tired of your crap you decide to give them a break. Their emotions matter too.
Why not just fix the valve or buy a new compressor? We've all been in that spot... Too tight for extras but desperately needing some happy. So you make it work. Things were super tight for us then. This was still a hobby for my husband. Hobbies cost money, they don't make money. He couldn't justify buying an entire new compressor at the time. Fixing the valve... Well... While my husband is very mechanically minded and loves to figure out how things work, he did that all day at work. I mean, that's why the cobbler's child had no shoes right? Cobbler made shoes all day. He definitely didn't want to make more in his off time. That, and often what you spend on parts to fix something could put you halfway or more to a new one. There's a cost/benefit analysis there.
We were in a tight spot. Money was tight, budgets were stretched. Belts were tightened. And that, alone, is enough to make you want to find a little happy. I want what's best for my family. That includes wanting what's best for my husband. I decided if playing "There was a Rich Old King" from vacation bible school with the Husky helped him find a little happy, then by golly, I would do so.
If you are unfamiliar with the song I referenced, just ask. It's a cute one.
Life isn't easy. I mean, it can be. But usually it's not. And it wasn't easy then for us. But looking back, I love remembering the Husky and the up and down operation. I love remembering the kitchen table studio and the single hanging pendant light over the table that, now that I think about it, kinda looks like an light over a table in an interrogation room. I didn't see that then. I saw the peace he got from painting and the calmness I got from coloring. And I saw how supporting him made his day better. And I liked that.