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This is a representation of a rusted car that sits on our family homestead along Big Stone Lake in Minnesota.

My inspiration for doing artwork came partly from finding pencil drawings done by my uncle Dale H. Rook during his youth, high school, college, teaching and WW II experiences. He had some of his sports drawings published in the Minneapolis Tribune while pitching baseball for both Hamline University and the University of Minnesota in the 1940s.

He was a P-51 pilot who was shot down and killed on a bomber escort mission over Dessau, Germany on May 30, 1944. 

Beardsley, Minnesota was a bustling little town in the earlier years but like a lot of small towns has diminished in size. There are just a little over 200 people there now. Three restaurants in town, Bobbi Jo's, One More and Big G's serve great food at reasonable prices. People travel from all over to take advantage of the good deals. 

When I was small my dad had a grocery store on main street and I would sit out front on a wire crate on busy Saturday nights.  Parking was at a premium and both sides of the street were full.  Directly across the street was a bar and  at times a crowd would fall out of the front door and a fist fight would resume in the street.  I could not see what was going on but I could hear the punches and the crowd egging them on.  After what seemed like a long time, the local town constable would break it up and people resumed their activities.

Our store was open until 10 PM on Saturdays as that is when the farmers came to town to do business.

Left: Herb Rook, my grandfather, Roger Rook, my uncle and Bill Rook, my dad.

I was raised in Beardsley,  Minnesota located in the bump-out on the very western edge of the state.  My dad owned the family grocery store, was a rural mail carrier and was in the early stages of starting Bigstone Kennels, a world renowned Labrador Retriever breeder.  He was quiet, intellectual and read voraciously.  Hunting and fishing were his obsessions.

My mother worked in the grocery store and was a social animal.  She had 4 children to raise but managed to work, cook, socialize and work in the store with ease. The house was bustling with guests both, family and friends. The neighborhood was full of kids in the 50s and it was the perfect time to be a child.  Kids were outside in winter and summer riding bikes, roller skating, ice skating, playing in the sandbox, playing games and just in general, were having fun. My mother put us to bed early so she could have some peace and quiet.  In the summer we had the windows open and I could hear other kids still playing outside long after we were in bed.

I always had an interest in painting abstract landscapes and Native American themed paintings but did not have the time until after I retired.  My favorite Native American artist is JoAnne Bird. Her paintings inspired me to try my hand at it.

I was raised in western Minnesota near the Sisseton Wahpeton Sioux Tribe and I marvel at their musical, artistic and athletic talents. They are a noble people wishing to carry on their traditions in the face of incredible change.

It is never too late to try your hand at painting or any other craft you may be interested in.