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2 Responses
My father was a painter and paper hanger in a small town along the coast in south Georgia. I remember those white overalls with a bib because my sister and I would iron them. He worked by himself. He might have had a partner at one time, but I guess it did not work out. I remember, growing up, I would sometimes, go in with him and watch him work. For that reason, I have never been afraid to tackle painting, and hanging paper, which I did years ago in some of my houses I owned.
I never went with him when he made bids for a job, but I know he was hired by an interior decorator in town, because she liked his work.
Great story Lois, thanks. I admire the skills of painters, with their steady hands and attention to detail. They make it look so easy. Every time I’ve painted, I’ve ended up with more paint on everything but the wall I’m trying to paint, including myself! Regards, Andrew