Monday, May 24, 2010


Politics doesn't make strange bedfellows - marriage does. ~Groucho MarxIf you want to read about love and marriage, you've got to buy two separate books. ~Alan KingMen who have a pierced ear are better prepared for marriage - they've experienced pain and bought jewelry. ~Rita RudnerNo rhyme or reason for the quotes, except they made me smile.
Ever since I was a little girl, few things held an appeal for me as a blank piece of paper; it is crisp, white and holds amazing potential. If it was lined, it was waiting for me to write words on it, and if it was not, well, it cried out for a picture. I don't recall receiving much encouragement from anyone to do either, though. Once I drew a picture I was proud of and practically begged my grandmother to put it up on the wall; she always promised to do it later but never did; I stopped asking.

I learned to write letters as a teenager, a practice I have used all my life. A letter to a family member or friend was carefully crafted with the intention of entertaining others. Of course, I didn't speak of what was really going on with me and my family, yet I was able to write humorous, discriptive letters people loved getting--especially my sisters. One day I was visiting my younger sister not too long before she died, and she brought out all the letters I had written to her over the years and I spent the evening listening to her read them to me, laughing and crying; I was touched that she had kept them and found so much enjoyment in them. I carried this love of writing to email, and later to this forum--a perfectly natural extension of myself. I spoke with my other sister last week and told her I was writing a blog, and she encouraged me to continue, saying she always loved my letters.
I didn't seriously start drawing and painting until after my second son was born. I always had a hard time impressing James with much, except for one thing: My art. He never failed in his praise and encouragement. I remember showing him my first drawings --primitive compaired to what I do today--and he said "Wow," a response I could always count on. Not too long after I started creating, I was struggling to paint with a child's set of watercolors, and my neighbor presented me with my first set of oil paints. I fell in love. I love the brilliant colors (something missing in acrylics), the smooth texture, the way the paint moves on canvas and even the smell; I love the brushes--and I have dozens, and I still love the potential of a blank paper piece of or a canvas. James had an art gallery in his room; if I painted something he loved, he would talk me out of it, and he was sure to show it to everyone who visited him. Art is a gift of God to me and so was James' encouragement.
This picture was taken of us not long after our wedding. I love pictures like this where his love is evident; there are times when it wasn't, especially in the last 10 years when he was sick. I am still not ready to look at recent photos of him but I love the old ones.


  1. Precious, new love, cherish it in pictures, what a gift. We are on our way to cherishing the mature love that grows a spirit. One day at a time. hugs, Sandi

  2. You both are so young!

    It's always interesting to hear how an artist begins his/her work. I'm surprised that you came to it so late...I wouldn't have thought so.


  3. How wonderfully you have developed your god given talents. Old pictures always hold special memories...this one you have put up is very nice.