lawrence peterson:
CLASS OF 1965
Upland High SchoolClass of 1965
Upland, CA
lawrence's Story
First of all, if you are reading this missive, congratulations, you have made it to a ripe old age... lol... We all have a story so let me bore you with mine... For those who knew me, I missed three of the last four months of my senior year... came back with a month remaining and somehow managed to graduate thanks to my girlfriend doing my homework... thank you, Claudia... Could not have done it without you...
The day after high school I entered the Army and after discharge, subsequently found myself working long hours to support a family... I was 27 when I entered college and managed to graduate first in my class, summa cum laude... Not bragging, merely pointing out there is hope for dummies like me who saw school as a necessary evil... so if you have a child who never opens a book, life has a way of intervening in our fate... I subsequently earned a graduate degree and then a doctorate in psychology... go figure... Ironically, I worked as a substitute teacher in the Chaffey district while earning my doctorate... Talk about payback... ouch...
You might recall my band, the Exotics, playing for the senior prom in 1964 and for the senor party in 1965... I still keep my hand in music and have composed numerous compositions, some of which I have posted on my art website... My favorite group, by the way, is Pink Floyd... I have also kept my hand in art, posting over 1000 paintings online... admittedly, I like to remain busy... A few books published, a few patents under my belt, and an underwater cutting and welding company I own and operate pretty much sums up my current situation...
I presently live on a small ranch just north of Wrightwood with three dogs and a rescued donkey... I build hot rod roadsters for fun... I recall Mr. Gillespie from my auto shop days saying if it were not for the steering wheel, I wouldn't know what door to get in... Well, I trust my mechanical knowledge has progressed somewhat from those tedious classroom days...
Although I no longer pole vault or run hurdles, I did teach martial arts in Upland in the nighties... These days I am content to merely walk and stretch for exercise... I refrain from tobacco and alcohol which perhaps contributes to my excellent health, but admit to smoking more than my fair share of weed back in the day... cough cough... These days, I am content to gulp down copious amounts of espresso and eat honey oat granola bars... Funny how age changes our perspective on life...
Enough of my prattling... I have attended one high school reunion, the thirtieth, and might take a stab at the one coming up... Keep up the faith... Life is tremendous and I feel like I am just getting started... You can always find me at my art website e.g., petersonartgallery dot com...
By the way, I still enjoy a twisted sense of humor:
Many art patrons want to know a little about my background so I thought I might share a few of my humble beginnings through the creative talents of my relatives. My Uncle Able is the infamous sculpture in the family, known for carving petroglyphs into rocks and charging tourists to glimpse a rare piece of ancient history from a pasture on his farm. Business was so good he had to lease parking space from his neighbor the beekeeper. More than one patron was stung by Uncle Able to be sure.Â
The industrial artist in the clan is undoubtedly Uncle Earl who advertises he will paint any outhouse door for only $9.95, both sides. My favorite commercial artist is Aunt Abeeseedee, previously renowned for air brushing trees on brochures to sell barren real estate in the desert. She currently works with Aunt Clarista performing body air brush tanning for singles wanting realistic looking abs. The paint is guaranteed for a month if you do not bathe.
No family gathering of kin is complete without reference to Uncle Ledo who once applied his artistic skills to the printing of one hundred dollar bills - - for a short time that is. There is also Uncle Al who drinks a little moonshine prior to painting crossing stripes down the highway for the local municipality...Expand for more
. He says it adds bucks to the ticket coffers and is fun as hell watching drivers negotiate the lines. Among underground artists, petite Aunt Pinot applies her art skills to tongue tattoos at the local body piercing parlor and charges extra for what she calls electric tongue therapy. Super cool art but customers are mute for a month after each procedure.
My Aunt Dimple ingests a Quaalude before painting fingernails at the local beauty parlor so she can concurrently give a psychic reading from customer cuticles. The most interesting relative is Aunt Zelda, the uncontested art critic in the family based upon years of reading and interpreting the rectal emanations of raccoon's as part of her thriving mail order apothecary business. Without question, Cousin Jo Bob is the rebel in the family, teaching young people the fundamentals of nihilistic spray painting on civic walls under the cloak of darkness. Regrettably, my favorite, Cousin Ewana, could not attend the family gathering this year, being cited for promoting an unlicensed art festival whereby Tai weed was tied to branches and called burning stick art. I almost forget to mention cousin Windpipe who manages to gross everyone out at the annual picnic, making art with cigar smoke blown from the hole in his throat.
There are scores of other relatives who are also artistically inclined. Aunt Stitch is a fashion designer teaching neighbors how to make dresses out of flour sacks and how to tie die Hollywood head scarfs from old stained diapers. At the top of the heap is Uncle Boris, recognized for turning a pickled pig into a cash cow with an annual art contract, painting page numbers and bar codes on toilet paper for the government.
With such a colorful background, I was fated to become an artist. Born in Iowa and raised by Mississippi gypsies, I found art far more entertaining than watching hair grow. Art was ubiquitous; the art of whittling, tree carving, hollering, dancing, sparking, and the art of staying out of jail - - all skills originating from humble beginnings. Drawing pictures in the sand with a stick gave rise to excellence in finger painting in elementary school. Of particular merit was receiving a job offer painting control numbers on the backs of ladybugs for the FDA. Rather, I enlisted in the Army, spending the next three years painting do not eat the big white breath mint signs for posting over military urinals.
Upon returning to civilian life, my art pretty much went south, working as a point of purchase designer for a rectal suppository company promoting the slogan, Get the lead out. My art career eventually went vertical when commissioned to airbrush subliminal flag poles on packages of male enhancement products. I went on to airbrush ice cream images on contaminated sport water bottles from Japan, the ones that glow in the dark and was responsible for Eat my Possum Lettuce and Tomato Sandwich t-shirts currently circulating somewhere in Turkey. The accolades go on but no need for false pride.
As water seeks its own level, my art technique eventually parlayed into painting hubcaps and selling them at local swap meets as helmets for Harley riders. Fortunately, I experienced an epiphany, realizing I was pretty much at the top of the heap career wise and had nothing more to prove. I ventured into research, trying cricket art for a while. My research assistants found it difficult to attach the brushes to the tiny cricket legs so getting another research grant looked pretty iffy.
Undeterred, I turned to trapping park squirrels and shaving their tails to create exotic brushes for sale to artists on Ebay. I stopped tail shaving when local animal rights groups began commenting on squirrels running about with rat tails. Anthropologists from the local university believed a new species had been discovered. Never short on ideas, a colleague converted my squirrel tail brushes into digital paint brushes and off I went, albeit, feeling a little odd and light headed from painting abstracts 24/7. Hmmm... Remind me to get the squirrel bite looked at :)
Register for Free to view all details!
Yearbooks
Register for Free to view all yearbooks!
Reunions
Register for Free to view all events!
Photos
