Spray paint: It is Magic in a Can!

Written in 2006 

Michael and Spay paint

Jackie (my wife) and I moved into or third home in the early 1990’s. It was on one acre, situated on large private lake. We had a small "hilly" wooded area that you walked down and through to get to the lake. I had spent quite a bit of time cleaning up this wooded area. I built a nice limestone path that twisted and turned down the hill and ending with a small footbridge at the waters edge.

In our area a hardware store had filed bankruptcy. The bank had foreclosed and was having an auction to sell of all the merchandise to cover the remaining debt. I bought various items including a box of spay paint. This box contained about twenty cans that were a variety of colors. My oldest son had grown to covet this box of cans. Cans that with the push of a button would distribute an atomized spray of wonderful color on any and everything.

One day I headed down to lake, tackle box and trolling motor in one hand and the battery and fishing poles in the other. As I started down the limestone staircase I notice the first four steps were painted with arrows pointing down to a small sign. When I got to the sign, also spray painted, it said “clubhouse this way” with another arrow pointing back into the woods. As I stood looking down the path in horror I could see that every tree along the path to the “clubhouse” had also been decorated with a variety of colors straight out of a can.

I sat all my fishing gear down and found my oldest offspring at the “secret” clubhouse. He was surrounded by a half dozen empty can of spray paint.  You know, I cannot remember what all I said to him but I know it included “what you were thinking” and “what part of that did you think was a good idea?” It gets better!

Stephen and Spray Paint

We sold and moved away from the house on the lake about two years ago. The home we bought is on three acres in a nice private subdivision. The neighborhood is quiet, the homes are all very nice, yards are well landscaped, and its inhabitants are mostly professional people.

Our  lot is wooded with house sitting perpendicular to the road leading back through the subdivision. The driveway to our home is concrete, it curves and then widens out in front of the garage. Both the house and the garage are brick structures.

One day I was mowing the portion of the lawn that paralleled the subdivision road I notice something wrong with one of the bricks on the garage. As I got closer I could see that it had been spray-painted. Oh yes, sprayed painted with one of those wonderful cans that distributed an atomized spray of beautiful colors.

I didn’t have to speculate on which one of my offspring did this; it was Stephen! Michael wouldn’t have used another can of spray paint again, since the brick staircase and clubhouse incident a few years earlier, without first requesting it in writing, signed in blood, all while he promised to be the model citizen for the next several months. Stephen, on the other hand, had not been through the spray paint use lectures of 2001.

As I shut the mower down and heading into the house I quickly snapped at Stephen saying, “Why did you spray paint the side of the garage?” Now, I know both of my boys pretty well, and they have a hard time hiding things from me. The look on Stephen’s face was one of a bank robber who has the FBI knocking on his door. Stephen began to deny but then relented by saying, “I don’t know, I thought it would blend in.” Here is how I responded: “You thought fire engine red would blend in with the dark red bricks on the side of the garage?” I continued, “What part of spray-painting the side of the garage did you think would be a good idea? …And what part of having one brick, on the side of the garage, which sticks out for every neighbor to see, did you think would be something that I wanted? You know, if I wanted one fire engine red brick the side of the garage I would have spray painted it myself.”

I had just dished out the punishment of stick detail, which is a full time job in our yard because of all the trees and it’s the punishment that Stephen disliked the most.  Once I finished laying out punishment I continued with the lecture. I was probably half way through when Michael walks through the kitchen and ask, “what did you do Dobe?” Head staring at the ground Stephen answers: “spray painted the side of the garage.” Michael says, “I’ve had this lecture before, you should have sprayed the back of the garage, it would have taken Dad longer to notice it” and Michael walked out.

I still haven’t cleaned that brick off. I have left it as a reminder for both boys that: “thou shall not use spray paint without prior arrangements being made with dad and only with his supervision.” Now both boys go through a difficult procurement process to acquire and use a can of spray paint. Sometimes when I spray paint something, I do the “I’m going to spray paint something dance” just to tic them off.