Meeting Lester Hawk

by

Orange

 

 

"Hey! Did you see that van?" I shouted so loud and suddenly causing my friend Jackie to spill her soft drink in her lap.  With out waiting for her to answer I leaped up and holding on to the windshield for balance, I stretched my neck as far as I could in order to see where the van had gone.

 

It was an eye catching old Ford van with a VW bus welled on the top.
It had been customized for living the free life.  It was warm cream color with fancy rot iron ladders and top cargo rack.  It utilized the VW windows for viewing and as a light source while the side panels were left solid below.  And there on the side was a wonderful monochromatic burnt sienna brush painting of an old man watching two eagles fly into a double sun. 

 

"Damn girl, he wasn't that damn cute.  Now look at my pants, I will have bees on my ass all day."  Jackie said as she felt the sticky drink soaking into her shorts. 

"Never mind your crotch right now, turn into the parking lot. He just parked in there.  I have got to see it better." I said squealing and waving my hands wildly in the direction I wished to go. 

 

Jackie was my best friend and a real fussbudget about spots on anything. I could tell this soda was going to drive her nuts. "You know you might enjoy getting in the water and getting the sweetness from between your legs, sugar."  I said with a wink.
 
"Oh yes, of course, this is just the way I want to attract attention" she said as she tossed back her hair, spread her knees and pulled the sticky short lose from her body.  "Yep, this is it" she said shaking her head as she and walked off like an infant cowboy with a very uncomfortable load.   Jackie was such a good sport and always made me laugh.

  

I was in luck.  He had parked just in front of the steps at the five-mile swimming hole.  I was very excited and secretly feeling like I had just encountered a special messenger.  The old man in the painting seamed to be mentally calling out to me.  I didn't have a shared belief system so I just made it up as I went along. I figure my guess is as good as the next mortals. 

 

I allowed myself to play with the notion for a bit and then decided I would just let the reality curtain fall and indulge myself in this mental space. Lots of good smoke, sure paint talks..... tee hee

 

I was totally captivated by this work. With only a few strokes the artist had rendered the face of an old man who was the personification of wisdom in a symbolic way. The features were only gestured lines, however, they said it all. I knew this was a real artist working with a special energy, because it came alive for me.

 

I sat on the hot pavement shifting from side to side and foot-to-foot trying to stop the blistering pavement from burning me. Eventually I abandoned the asphalt and took up a spot in the shady grass.  I did not want to lose a moment as I desperately tried to fix the image in my mind. How did he make these free slashes and strokes form the image and give it such life?
 
After about forty-five minutes the owner returned.  I asked him if he had done the work.  He said Lester Hawk, a local artist, had painted the artwork.
I would have loved to ask more but the guy was just too fresh for conversation.  I looked up to see Jackie returning from the creek having washed the root beer from her shorts, which gave me a gracious excuse to remove myself.  I left wishing I could meet this Lester Hawk fellow.

 

 

About six months later I was sitting at Rosie's Café, a little Mexican restaurants where the local hippies hang out. I looked up to see an older gray haired man of about forty- five with a long beard walk in. Some people from one of the tables wave and I heard them say " How it going Sagebrush?  I took another look at the man and thought that his friends were describing him just right.

 

He was pretty wild looking but not in a threatening way.  He was tall and lanky with long Einstein like fussy hair pulled back in a ponytail and a scraggly beard that obviously grew as it saw fit.  I took notice that he wore sandals and walked with a smooth relaxed gate. It is my natural way when encounter men that I stereotype them by their walks and the shoes they wear.

 

The stranger sat next to me, and ordered a cup of coffee.  I smiled and said "hello" going on with drawing the customers.  I often sketched in public places and used the people to substitute for live artists models.   We talked for a few moments and then out of nowhere he invited me to go to Paradise with him.  He said he was going to see another friend of his, a Lester Hawk.

 

It is not my natural way to take up with strangers, but this was a chance I did not wish to pass up.  My mind raced.  What was doing? I can't just get in a car with a stranger named Sagebrush, and drive off into the night.  I fumbled for my color pencils and stalled my answer until I could reason with what I wanted to do, and what was wise.

 

Thoughts rushed by like; he does have friends. And they know him here.  If he were bad the nice people would not be greeting him.....all stranger are not dangerous.  And what about my family at home who are expecting me soon? We lived twenty miles away and had no phone so a call was out of the question.   It was already ten o'clock and dark out. Paradise was a good half hours drive up the mountain.  I always came home before it got real late. "Oh devil be damned I am going to do it." I concluded as I place the sketchbook back into my bag.

 

With a more resolved mind I responded with, " I would really enjoy meeting Mr. Hawk and maybe getting to see more of his works.  Sure I will take the ride with you if you don't mind.  I guess it will be fine if I leave my car parked out front", I suggested to the waitress who shook her head in approval and reached for the money.  We paid the waitress for our coffee and waved good-bye to Sagebrush's friends.   I could only hope this was a good decision.

 

We reached Paradise at about eleven o'clock hoping to catch Lester at work. Sagebrush had told me Lester was working at a restaurant and that I should wait in front while he went to the back to talk with him. When Sagebrush returned he said the management told him that Lester had already gone home.

 

Sagebrush said he had to go to Lester's house. I said fine, as if I had a choice.  I felt troubled, but I was in this so far with out a problem, I thought no reason to turn back now.

 

We drove for miles into the forest.  I did not have a clue where we were or any certainty where we were going. We had left the city lights and traces of civilization many miles back. All the way I was questioning my own judgment.  Still the man had been very social and nice giving, me no reason for alarm. 

 

This reasoning I repeated like a silent mantra as we bounced along on a narrow dirt road that continued to go deeper into the unknown and pitch black forest. 

 

 

                                                                  

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