@@@@@ x 751 According to the Weekly Echo, Baby
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According to the Weekly Echo, Baby Elizabeth (as
she was referred to almost throughout) began her
artistic endeavors on the very first day of her
at-home convalescenceShe quickly went on,
"gaining skill and prowess with each passing hour,
it seemed to her amazed father She started with
colored pencils ("Sound familiar?" Wireman asked),
before progressing to a box of watercolors the
bemused John Eastlake brought home from Venice
In the three months following her accident, much
of it spent in bed, she had done literally
hundreds of watercolors, turning them out at a
rate John Eastlake and the other girls found a
little frightening(If "Nan Melda" had an opinion,
it wasn't offered in print Eastlake tried to
slow her down - on doctor's orders - but this was
counterproductiveIt caused fretfulness, crying
fits, insomnia, bouts of feverBaby Elizabeth
said when she couldn't draw or paint, "her head
hurted Her father said that when she did paint,
"She ate like one of the horses she liked to
draw The article's author, one MRickert,
seemed to find this endearingRecalling my own
eating binges, I found it all too familiar
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I was going over the muddy print for the third
time, with Wireman where my right arm would have
been, if I'd had a right arm, when the door opened
and Gene Hadlock came inHe was still wearing the
black tie and bright pink shirt he'd had on at the
show, although the tie had been pulled down and
the collar was loosenedHe was still wearing
green scrub pants and green bootees over his shoesWhen he looked up I saw a face
that was as long and sad as an old bloodhound's
"Eleven-nineteen," he said"There was never
really a chance
Wireman put his face in his hands
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I got to the Ritz at quarter to one in the morning,
limping with fatigue and not wanting to be there
I wanted to be in my bedroom at Big PinkI wanted
to lie in the middle of my bed, push the strange
new doll to the floor as I had the ornamental
pillows, and hug Reba to meI wanted to lie there
and look at the turning fanMost of all, I wanted
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to listen to the whispered conversation of the
shells under the house as I drifted off to sleep
Instead I had this lobby to deal with: too ornate,
too full of people and music (cocktail piano even
at this hour), most of all, too bright