Line Drawn Draughtsmanship

Chapter 18 (cont'd)
"So Simmy, what kind of parenting did you have?" J.P. had a forward frankness that just drew out the most candid responses from unsuspecting new acquaintances.
Simmy realized this was his backbone of success. You make the movie from the 'real.'
"What made you want to write, go to design school...?"
"When I was about ten years old, I was sitting at the kitchen table after dinner one night. My Dad was drawing a house plan with a pencil and a ruler and, I'm not even sure he was using drafting paper. He had no formal training at all. I was quietly watching him and he suddenly looked up and said, 'Would you like to draw like this?'
"I immediately responded with, 'No, that looks like something too perfect,' in my childlike diction. What I really meant was that it looked too finicky. He just chuckled and I remember asking him another question. He responded with, 'You think too much!' So," Simmy paused, " my father was difficult to understand because he seemed to encourage, occasionally, but then, just as quickly, stop what he started, cutting a conversation off with sharpness. Both my parents are oldest children, so they were quite driven by a perfectionism. Well, my Mom is actually the second child but the oldest is a son so, according to Lehman, they would both display tendencies of oldest children. I don't think I felt as much severity as some of my older siblings, growing up, because I'm the seventh child. But, having said that, I don't want you to get the impression that I was not affected by this perfectionist drive, because I very much was. 'I was asked to clean and vacuum the family car around the same age, I think. We lived in the country and our driveway was gravel, as well as all the roads that led to the city. As a family of ten, there were a lot of dusty feet that used the car. I vacuumed and cleaned for over two hours. I just couldn't get the gravel to stop jumping out of that da...ed carpeting. Finally, in desperation, I smoothed the carpet lightly with the hose and made it appear perfect. My Dad came along to inspect my work. He pushed his finger down hard on the carpet, " the men at the table groaned knowingly, 'crooked that finger and with a swift index condemnation, he revealed the sand buried in the bottom of that luxury car carpet. Then he said in a unapologetic clipped voice," Simmy adjusted her tone accordingly, 'That's not clean. Do it again!'"
No one spoke around the table. The respect could be felt but this group was driven by a artistic surgical compulsion that was needed to lance wounds of experience so as to slip into these shredded coats of pain, joy, triumph and transform those shreds into a completed work for the camera.
J.P. nodded. Is that your best story?
Simmy and Sam and everyone at the table relaxed into a 'the Kahuna's got kahunas' chuckle.
"That's my best known-ya-for-three-hours-already story," Simmy mildly mocked. "Does anyone draw the line for you J.P.?"