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.