Every Saturday, we’ll be posting a new illustration by David Lester. The Mecca Normal guitarist is visually documenting people, places and events from his band’s 32-year run, with text by vocalist Jean Smith.
My father has a character he draws for my mother, a beagle called Mild Dog. It’s a simple line drawing of a dog with a couple of spots on him, but I think he’s quite important in their relationship. I see evidence of Mild Dog when I visit them. Christmas cards from Mild Dog, little notes from Mild Dog on her breakfast tray. I don’t say too much about it, because it’s their private thing. Just like when my brother and I used to kill ourselves laughing when my dad called my mom by her maiden name initials. In a tender moment, he might for instance say: “I love you IC.” And this sent my brother and I scrambling off, covering our mouths, to the other end of the house where we could laugh without them hearing us. Imagine your father calling your mother ick! Oh, it was grand. As were the beautiful canned asparagus sandwiches on white bread with mayo that my mother made—rolled up sandwiches with the crusts cut off—that were left-over in the morning after whatever kind of party I’d basically slept through the night before. Seems to me the sandwiches were somewhat better for having sat out all night on the kitchen counter. My brother thought they were gross, so I got to eat them all.
This reminds me that I woke up this morning hearing a crow pecking at the roof above me and I thought I was back in my childhood bedroom. I lay there with my eyes closed and put everything into place—where my bed was, the color of the curtains—and I stayed there, in childhood. For quite a while this morning, I was 10 years old again.
“All About The Same Thing” from the album Who Shot Elvis? (Matador, 1996) (download):
