Doing the footwork

I spent the day doing guerrilla marketing with my daughter Erika and grandson John. I say "guerrilla," but times have changed since I lived in Boston and spent dangerous nights spray painting slogans on bridges and buildings, and pasting posters to walls and telephone poles.

Our day was fairly sedate, truly. We asked permission. The guy in the Green Marble coffeehouse, deep in downtown Mystic, was a little surprised at this. He figured we'd just put up our posters wherever we wanted to put up our posters.

"I'm 52," I said. "I've learned to ask permission."

What a statement that is, when I stand back and look at it. I guess I have learned to ask permission. I still do things without asking, but only when I'm pretty sure I either won't get caught or, if I do, it won't matter. I think I've realized that I only ask permission these days when I'm pretty sure it's going to be granted.

Of course, I suppose this means I miss out on opportunities. And it sure means I miss out on the fun of being yelled at, threatened, sworn at and chased by the cops. Oh, well.

It was a cold day to be stomping around the vastly empty downtown Mystic and the stunningly crowded downtown Stonington. But we were in and out of stores, and when the sun came out, it was warm enough. As we strode through the streets, it felt like we were on a mission, and I guess, in a way, we were. It was great fun to do this with Erika and John. This is the reason we came home, really, when you get all the way down to it. To put up posters with the kid and the grandkid.

I did make a painting yesterday, but I have a few details I want to address before I post it here. So tune in tomorrow. It's a good one!

For more paintings, see jacobson-arts.com