DOROTHY

ARTIST & Teacher

RETURN TO DOROTHY OR DOROTHY PG 2 OR NEW STUFF

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Tribute to Aunt Dorothy
by Barb Burdett Slaughterbeck
March, 2005

My first recollection of Aunt Dorothy was, I think, just shortly before we moved to Florida.
Grandma Nellie always spoke of her when she came to visit, and Dad was always talking about Dorothy and Thelma. She came up here with Grandma and Aunt Billie, I think.

Well anyway, when they decided to move down there, we went in the car with some clothes and went to Aunt Dorothy's. After a couple of days, of going from family to family to visit, we got settled in.

Mom and Dad and sister Pat, stayed with Aunt Reatha. Aunt Dorothy talked them into letting me stay with her. She said she'd put me in school and take care of me until they got a place of their own. Everyone was agreeable to that arrangement, so that's how it was left. Aunt Dorothy treated me like I was Royalty. She put me into Wilson Jr. High with all the snooty kids. Well not all, but most of them. I had a teacher named Miss Nava, who I disliked immensely, by the way.

Aunt Dorothy wouldn't let me do anything. She made her boys do all the chores and the dishes while I took painting and drawing lessons. She was determined to make an artist out of me. I kept telling her that was impossible but she wouldn't listen. On Saturdays Dad would either come get me or Aunt Dot would take me to Aunt Reatha's, and I'd spend the weekends with my family. Then on Sunday evening, it was back to Aunt Dot's.

After several weeks of this, I got sick. I went to school everyday, but I felt terrible and spent the rest of the day lying on the couch. Finally it got so bad that she had to tell someone. I don't know whether it was my folks or if it was Grandma Nellie, but someone told her she better get me to a Dr. She took me to a clinic somewhere in Tampa. When she explained to the Dr. what was going on, he told her that I was homesick and that she needed to get me back to my family PDQ. She told the Dr. that there wasn't a bed available at Reatha's for me to sleep in. He told her he didn't care whether there was a bed there or not, get her back to her family. She can sleep on the floor. So she took me to Reaths's and told Mom and Dad what was happening. Dad said, "We'll find her a place to sleep." I didn't have to sleep on the floor, but I did sleep on an old army cot. Didn't matter to me. Pat was staying in the house with Reatha and Ed, and Mom and Dad were ensconced in the apartment they had attached to their garage. There we made our home until the house got moved in on the lot and was made livable enough to move into. This move meant another change of school for me. I should have gone to El Questa school but Dot and Reatha said, "NO," to that. So, they enrolled me in Memorial Jr. High, where cousins Phillip DuBose and Janet Greene went. Of course this was out of the district so I had an awful long bus ride from Aunt Reatha's to Memorial and back every day and a long walk to and from Waters and Rome Ave's. The "grown-ups" decided that I should use Phillip's address as my address. That made Memorial the correct school for me to attend.

I had no problem with the bus in the morning. I got on at Rome and Waters and got off on Florida Ave at the street Memorial was on. (It was Central Ave., which was between Florida and Nebraska Ave.) Had to walk one long block but that wasn't bad. BUT the ride home was another matter. The bus that would take me to Rome and Waters only ran once an hour. I could take a Florida Ave. bus that ran about every 15 minutes, but I had to get off at Florida and Waters and walk all the way to Aunt Reatha's. That was a long nasty walk.

Solution: I made friends with a girl named Ozalena Wallace. She was student monitor every day for last period. It was study period and the teacher was never there. (She was teacher's pet.) Very nice girl though and I liked her. When she found out about my bus ordeal, she solved the problem for me. About 5 minutes before the bell rang, she'd motion for me to leave. Had just enough time to make it to the corner and get on the right bus.

One of the early days, of bus riding, I missed it and had to stand on the corner for an hour. I stood right in front of a Chinese Restaurant that was on the corner. While standing there, one of Florida's famous afternoon downpours arrived. I was standing there getting drenched when the Chinese Lady came out and grabbed me and ushered me into her restaurant. She took me back to a booth, sat me down, brought a towel to dry off with then gave me a cookie. She remarked that she had seen me waiting on the corner before. I explained what the problem was. She told me that from then on, I should just come inside and wait for the bus. She didn't mind at all. She was growing Bean Sprouts and other Chinese delicacies in the back of the restaurant. Thanks to Ozalena, I didn't have to do that for very long.

The Florida adventure lasted about 9 or 10 months, and then we were on our way back to Ohio. Dad came back first to get his old job back and to get the boat ready to go back into the water. That's when he had the car accident. Mom was shipped back by bus, Pat stayed with Reatha and Ed, and I went to live with the DuBose's. That's when Phillip and I became such good friends and bosom buddies. Aunt Edna and Uncle Paul brought Pat and I back in August when they came up here for the reunion.

It was quite a few years later before I saw Aunt Dorothy again. My husband and I went to Florida on vacation. We visited with Aunt Dot and Aunt Reatha. While we were there, Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Frank took us all over the place sight-seeing. My husband had never been to Florida, so it was a real treat for him. Then years later, they would come up here to visit with Mom and Dad and Uncle Bud. We got to see them every two or three years until they got to old to travel so far.

My husband and I divorced in 1984,and the next summer I decided to take my two oldest grandchildren on a trip to Florida. We flew to Orlando and spent a couple days there, then flew on into Tampa, rented a car and went to Aunt Dot's. They took me and the kids all over, and everyone had a great time. The day before we were to leave, Aunt Dot informed us that there had to be a painting lesson before we departed. She said we need to know if either one of these kids had any talent. We made a trip to the barn, and she set up canvases for herself and the two kids. I quietly watched for a couple of minutes then told her to just wait a darn minute, I wanted a canvas too. She got all excited about that. Of course, she had to chew me out because I didn't want anything to do with painting before. Well to make a long story short, I was so proud of my little painting that I made her take me over to Aunt Isabelle's that evening so I could show her "my picture". Before we left, she gave me scads of instructions because she just knew that I would be painting when I got home. After I got home, she wrote to me with pages of instructions. All about paint, and brushes and when to use this and when to use something else. Thanks Aunt Dot.

For about 2 years afterward, I painted and painted and painted. Now I don't paint so much because I'm out of wall space. When I do paint, I usually give them away. I try every year to do one for the reunion. I have enjoyed painting, and I should have had my head examined years ago when Aunt Dot wanted to mentor me. I will never be a Dorothy Burdett Fuerst, and if it hadn't been for that great lady I wouldn't be doing any painting now.

Love you dearly Aunt Dot. Love you!!!!!!!!!!BARB

 

I went to Aunt Dots when she first got that big organ. She made me sit and play until my fingers were sore and my back was killing me. She gave me this poem about organ playing. I don't know whether she wrote it or what but she wanted me to have it. She'd read it and then just laugh and snicker...........I thought it was cute too. Barb 10-22-01

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THE LESSON

BY Virginia

 

When I have gone to Florida for the reunion or when I was able to spend several weeks there in the 1980’s I would try to spend at least one day each with aunts Isabelle and Dorothy. Aunt Isabelle and I sat around and knitted. At least I managed to knit my one and only dishrag under her instructions. Aunt Dorothy took me out to her big metal shop, and we had an oil painting lesson.

It was hot in the shop, and Aunt Dorothy sweated and breathed heavily, but she insisted that we stay there and paint. She told me that I should try certain elements – a rock, a waterfall, trees, clouds. She said that I would put the features of my landscape on the canvas just as nature had. Therefore, the trees would go on after the sky and the ground did. Certain effects I did with the knife, and others I brushed on. Did I want blue shading or amber or pink? Southern trees or northern ones? The mountain peaks I created with the knife. She sat beside me and painted the features I chose on her own canvas as I tried to repeat them on mine. Two paintings, one a demonstration, and the other a treasure that my son and daughter would place high on the list of family treasures we would later divide up.

I had only one oil painting lesson, but it was enough to give me a bug which would wait to take over until my retirement years. Those years are ready to begin, and I have already found a painting teacher here in Washington. The one lesson did something more for me, for since then I have invited out-of-town visitors to go with me into my stained glass shop for awhile. There we do two glass pieces – one a demonstration, and the other a precious treasure that someone takes home and  puts high on a list. 12-10-01

 

MY AUNT DOROTHY !

BY Barbara Burdett Slaughterbeck

When I was 13 years old, my family sold out, packed up, picked up and went to Florida. After three grueling days and nights, we arrived at Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Franks. It was after 10 p.m. and everyone was in bed. Dad banged on the door, and Uncle Frank soon appeared. After the hellos and the hugs Aunt Dorothy put us to bed. I had the privilege of sleeping in the screened-in room on the back of the house. I was comfortable, but I was not used to Florida's smell or the damp blankets or the strange noises or the landing lights from the big planes headed straight for me, so sleep became a difficult task. I didn't sleep long, when a voice from the doorway awakened me. "Bobbie, are you asleep?" In came Aunt Dot with a glass of baking soda water. She had chronic indigestion, and that was the cure. She sat on the edge of my bed and told me all about it while she sipped her cure. After a few good burps she returned to her bed and left me go back to sleep.

I stayed with Aunt Dot and Uncle Frank for awhile until Dad could get us a place to live. She was delighted to have a girl around. With her three boys and Uncle Frank, she was outnumbered. She made the boys do the dishes after supper every night so she could give me painting lessons. I kept telling her that "I cannot paint", "I don't want to paint", "You are wasting your time", "How can I paint when I can't draw a straight line?" She kept insisting that if I was a Burdett, I could paint, and I didn't have to know how to paint straight lines. There was that old "tenacity" rearing its ugly head.

Forty years later, I took two of my grandchildren on a trip to Florida. We stayed for a week with Aunt Dorothy. The day before we were to leave, she said "Lets go to the shop and see if either one of these kids has any talent for painting." Everyone was agreeable, so to the shop we went. She set up three canvases, got out the brushes and the paint and said OK, now you do just what I do. It all looked kind of interesting to me, so I told her to "Wait a minute, set one up for me too." She looked at my rather funny and said, "Oh, you want to try it now too, huh?" I laughed and said, "Sure, why not?" She wasted no time in setting up another canvas. Needless to say, I was very happy with what I did. That evening we drove over to visit Aunt Isabelle, and I insisted on taking my painting along. I just had to show it to someone.

Before we left for home, Aunt Dot spent a lot of time writing things down for me. What to do, and what not to do. We couldn't take the paintings home with us because they were wet. She sent them to me after they dried. After I got home, I received several letters from her that were just crammed with painting instructions. Armed with her instructions and the Burdett genes, I have continued painting, not as a job but as a hobby. What I don't keep for myself I give away. I have no desire to paint for profit. My satisfaction comes in just doing it. Thanks Aunt Dorothy. You were right all along. Love you.

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