One evening after dinner, Albert was drinking a cup of tea and browsing a catalog of herbs from around the world. He would often order away for special ingredients to remake recipes that had become overly familiar to him. As he looked down the lists, he noticed a very special mint leaf that had just been added to the catalog. It was a rare type of Japanese mint which only grew near the base of Mt. Fuji. Albert excitedly placed his order that night and began to imagine all the different types of things he could make with this unique ingredient.
04.28.2021
One notable thing about this image is the arm chair. It is roughly based on a chair I have that was my paternal grandfather’s. The upholstery of the chair is in pretty rough shape and has been as long as I can remember. If you look past the peeling, marbled red vinyl, you can see the multi-green covering that was on the chair in its previous iteration. The bones of the chair are strong though, and one day we’ll get it spruced up again. My fondness for the chair has some to do with how comfortable and sturdy it is and much to do with the fact that it is something that belonged to my Grandpa Carl. He died before I was born, and I always wished I had gotten to be around him. He loved sports and was a hog farmer. He was the first person in the United States to sell a pig for $10,000; I remember seeing the newspaper clipping as a kid. The buyers were a group of Japanese businessmen who were building stacked animal pens like high-rises back in Japan. I always remember my dad sharing that one of my Grandpa’s dreams had been to go into sports journalism, but that when it came time for him to go to college, he paid for his sister to go instead. I’ve always admired him for that, and it’s always kind of broken my heart, too. It’ll be good to get the chair reupholstered someday, but to tell you the truth, I’m pretty comfortable with the tatters too.
He would think about his plans for dinner even more while he tended things at the stationary shop during the day, and when he came home, he went right to the kitchen. Each night he sat down to meals that were so delicious it would be hard to find their equal, even in the finest restaurants in town.
04.27.2021
If I have the chance to eat at home, picnic, or carry-out from a restaurant, I will choose all of these before dining in at a restaurant. It’s not that I don’t like to eat at restaurants—I do, but I prefer the quiet privacy of home or the open space of a good picnic. That being said, I do enjoy a developed meal, the aesthetics of plating, and a table set in a charming way. Homemade “restaurants” are a favorite of mine. If you’ve ever seen the old Parent Trap movie with Hailey Mills, you’ll know the scene where the two sisters recreate the Italian restaurant where their parents first met, and you’ll have a sense of my reference for this experience. That’s what I imagine it is like for Albert as he savors the fine meals he prepares.
Albert didn’t just like to cook. He loved it. In fact, when Albert woke up each day, he sat in bed and thought about the recipes that he would make for dinner that night.
04.26.2021
In this illustration, Albert doesn’t even get out of bed before he starts thinking of what he loves to do most. I had the chance to witness a similar experience not too long ago when one of my brothers and I went backpack camping for a night. We had gone to Ha Ha Tonka State Park and had hiked about 5 miles to a very sweet site that is surrounded on three sides by a bow in a little stream and on the fourth side by a low bluff face. A mix of evergreen and deciduous trees hem in the camp so that you’re allowed a great sense of privacy. It is a lovely place to be.
We had had a great evening the night before. We set up camp and cooked our dinner, and sat talking for a long while before getting into our respective hammocks to pass the night. I woke up early the next morning and made coffee while my brother slept in. He’s not particularly a morning person. I have many memories of him trundling out into the living room or kitchen with a look of disorientation on his face.He is also not quick to verbal communication in that first part of the day.
I was sitting with my coffee and he hadn’t yet stirred that morning. In the distance, I could hear a turkey gobbling. This went on for about five minutes, and then from my brother’s hammock came the rough, high-pitched sound of a turkey hen. No, a female turkey had not roosted with my brother in his sleeping bag. My brother, who is a committed hunter, had woken, heard the gobbles and had decided to respond with a lady turkey call. I made some joke about how all the other turkeys had already gotten out of bed, but I got no response back from the shadowed area of his hammock. A few seconds more went by, and then he let out another screeching turkey call. It was several more minutes before he emerged from his bed, and probably a few more before he was ready to communicate in human language, but I think it’s amazing that as slow as he is to get going in the morning, his love of hunting and calling turkeys had him ready to go even before climbing out of his sleeping bag that morning. Similarly, Albert is focused on his passion as he first wakes up, though he has different turkey thoughts on his mind.
In the evenings though, Albert did what he liked best. He cooked at home.
4.23.2021
Now we are starting to see Albert in the midst of his favorite pastime. If the cardigans and quiet work in the stationary shop didn’t give it away, it’s time to go ahead and say it—Albert Willis is a home-body. And what does he like to do at home most? He cooks!
With these quick, daily drawings, he didn’t end up with an extravagant kitchen, but all he really needs are the basics. One of the simple kitchen tools that made it into this illustration is the classic colander. This one is larger than what I grew up with, but the shape has always been fascinating to me. I’ve seen many images of other kids who did the same as I when I was young, putting it on upside-down like a helmet, with maybe a shoelace tied under the chin for security. I can imagine thousands of parents walking from their kitchens, retrieving the colander from their child’s room or the yard so that they can strain the just-washed vegetables or the piping hot spaghetti noodles.
During the day, Albert took pride in keeping his shop. He kept it neat and tidy and always polished to a shine.
04.22.2021
I didn’t think about this when I first named him, but as I chose Albert’s profession, I recognized that he shares a last name with my first grade teacher, Mrs. Willis. I am thankful for every memory I have of Mrs. Willis. I remember her being a caring, firm, and dedicated teacher. I would like to say that I think she was tall, but I was only seven at the time, and all grown-ups seemed tall. I really think she was, though. Another thing I remember is that Mrs. Willis challenged us to develop clear handwriting. As I started to think about a work setting that matched Albert’s cardigans and noted his last name, the stationary shop became the obvious choice. With his attention to keeping it well in order, I think Mrs. Willis would have approved of it as well.