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ADRIAN
It's funny the details you remember from childhood. I can remember my grandfather, or
Opa as we called him in good German tradition, painting our house at 95 fox Boulevard in
Massapequa, Long Island. I say it's funny I should remember these details because my
address is not the sort of information I would think a four-year-old would be privy to.
Opa was a house painter by trade: interiors, exteriors, paint, wallpaper, mouldings... He
was good, too. I remember him hanging wallpaper in our stairwell and having to use a
contraption rigged with ladders and boards to reach the very top. I also remember the
pencils he gave to all his customers. By the time I got hold of them, they were so old
that the erasers were hardened, and they smeared anything you tried to eradicate with
them. "Fred Schmidt Painting," they said on a manilla-colored background. But on
this particular occasion he was painting the exterior of our small, two-bedroom house with
bright red paint.
Here's where my details get fuzzy. I remember thinking what a wonderful idea it would be
to paint a neighbor child's hair red with the paint Opa was using. The child (I do not
remember if it was a boy or a girl) was about my age and very blonde. The red paint would
make quite an impact. When Opa wasn't looking, I dipped the brush into the can of
oil-based paint sitting on the grass beside the ladder, and I stroked it onto my willing,
blonde neighbor. After a few moments, I guess my friend didn't think it was such a good
idea anymore, or maybe that's when my mother looked out the window. The next thing I
remember about the whole thing is that I was taken to the neighbor's house and made to
watch him or her get a bath. The water was completely red and the child was crying.
It wasn't until 20 years later that I remembered it was Adrian. I was introduced to him in
Woodside, California by my roommate. Adrian had attended Stanford University and Columbia
law school, and he was now a big shot entertainment lawyer in Century City. I was
horrified to learn that he was also from Massapequa, Long Island, and that he was about
the same age as I. that's when it hit me.
I thought it poetic justice that, when I saw Adrian 20 years after the initial incident,
his hair was strawberry blonde.
copyright Susan "Sam" Madden
http://www.fortunecity.co.uk/meltingpot/clyde/207/
