THE GIRLFRIENDS OF 1945

It might have been a final goodbye luncheon; perhaps ladies parting ways as one leaves the workforce for marriage. This photo was found among my mothers photos and adapted to colored pencil and ink. They coyly glance at the camera not knowing what the postwar years will bring. They offered a play on my imagination.

Bunny Love

We said goodbye to beloved bunny last Friday. Very sad long day, complicated by the unexpected arrival of grandparents for a visit. And while we were delighted to see them an unforseen event further complicated things. Grandma lost her balance and down she went. hard. Breaking the joint at the top of the femur. On to hospital where I'm happy to say, one week later she is recovering and in therapy.
Ever have that sinking feeling in your stomach, "uh, -oh?) that's how Friday morning began when I discovered bunny heavily breathing. I'd seen this in humans with congestive heart failure, and his lack of acknowlege of me (after all I bring the food and he being a little boy, was always excited to see hay and pellets coming) gave me a start.
A blessing is always hiddne in these events and no more so than none of us having to make that "final decisio". He passed after seizuring on the way to the vets. It's always too soon. and even thought at 6 we was considered a senior bunny (dwarf rabbits live typically from 5-8 years tops), we had hoped for a little more time.
Rest in peace Sweetie Petie.

BACK TO SCHOOL

The Wal-Marts and Targets tout the age old (well at least as long as I've been around)reverie, BACK TO SCHOOL. I'm sure it has a different significance than it did for me in the 50's. Back then it meant a home perm, arguing about NOT cutting hair that had grown long in the summer. A new plaid school dress with a large "Pilgrim" collar, and saddle oxfords. It also mean a new wool sweater and skirt that it would be much too warm to wear for at least another month and a half. It meant walking up the steps to the school, last year's report card in hand to determine the right room number. Then checking the class list, would a best friend be on it. Or worse, one of the many nemeses that every kid faces until they mark their territory. How long til lunch when we could run home to a waiting mother and share the events of the morning, promises of great things; writing cursive, having geography for the first time, or, in later years, gym without the boys, Home Economics or Shop. But most of all, excitement. We hadn't been in the building all summer. The rooms had been painted, the floors waxed. There was a smell that permeated the entire building. Of course it didn't hurt that Kindergarten through eighth grade were house in the same building. There were new floors to discover, junior high had it's own entrance. Everyone had their space.
There would be orchestra or band for the first time. Brownies or Girl Scouts, and for the VERY lucky, lessons of some kind. Yes, there sure was a reason to shout, BACK TO SCHOOL!

TEA TOAST AND BREAKFAST IN BED

It was a huge thing, stuck on top of my grandmother's secretary. Neither really belong in a bedroom but space in our story and a half being at a premium, and I the preservationist extraordinaire, leave little choice. It is a huge gray aluminum tray; tole-hand painted with lemon-yellow flowers, no particular genre. Bright with orangy-red centers. In my sisters and my growing up years, it came out of hiding, rather predictably at every recovery from flu or childhood diseases. Often it was the first sign that a doctor would be called to the house, and no, you wouldn't be going to school.
Wobbly, since it was circular and had no fold-out legs, it balanced precariously on top of the bedcovers, offering, as hot dishes conducted their heat through the metal, additional warmth to the recovering child.
Predictable as well were it's offerings. It began with tea, Lipton of course, it's orange tinged waters betraying the actual flavors, as no sugar would be offered. Tea, to see if you'd "keep it down". Then dry toast. so dark it looked like it would break before it reached your mouth.
The morning the tray held milque-toast you were assured that later, a simple toy or book might be brought and you'd be sitting up amonst a mound of pillows; that is if you ate the soggy crumb infested mixture, and "kept it down". By the time a baked potato, ginger ale and jello were served, your time to play amonst the blankets was numbered.
By then, it was a treat to move to the living room where you could recouperate on the davenport and watch a little TV.
Such were the days of recovery in the 1950's. I miss them. But I still have the tray.

Music Under the Stars

What a beautiful evening. My daughters and I ventured to the Marina at the end of town, fully intending to take the launch by river to the Zoo. We are so fortunate to have a zoo on the opposite side of the river. For whatever reason, the launch never appeared and we went by car.
I have such wonderful memories of being a small child and hearing the symphony orchestra at this very ampitheatre.A WPA project, the ampitheatre has been around for years and the free events are popular among young families and seniors alike. The sit among the trees and listen to the music, birds and ducks flying overhead, was like a vacation for us. It's the kind of thing you see on billboards advertising a wonderful summer evening in distant cities.

WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF

A weird night to say the least. I began rushing to class in a University. (My mother at 98, STILL dreamed of missing class.) The class was to begin at 9:40 and in my dream there were not two clocks that had the same time. Rushing to what should have been the second floor, a maintainance man stopped me and said the stairwells to the west wing had been closed because the floors were wet. Groups of students were herded to another stairwell and I herded along with them. A couple of them I seemed to know and tried to engage in conversation about the whereabouts of the class. To no avail.
I found myself in the most elaborate of lab schools, I guessed kindergarten by the areas designated for housekeeping, blocks and climbing. Security was very tight and I inadvertantly emerged through the curtains of a puppet stage. Someone kindly directed me back through the curtains and into the main hallway where I was certain by this time it would make more sense to go back home than to try to make that class.
I was startled to see my sister as directress of the lab school; primly dressed in a smart navy skirt and vest, and crisp white blouse. She was hurriedly giving directions to a secretary and her arms were loaded with books, binders and the all important clipboard. She waved to me and seemed less surprised to see me than I was to see her. After a cursory wave I meandered to a ladies room where I thought I should change clothes. Two girls whispering and pointing in my direction led me to stop and ask if I knew them.
It seemed they were upset that I had sold school sponsorships to people they had promised (you know, the ads students are always asked to sell) I assured them that I only sold to family and friends. That seemed to satisfy them and I went on my merry way. (Remember this is a DREAM, not an actual event.)
At home I sent to cleaning the kitchen floor, tackling with a vengeance a small corner where rice had spilled, buggy rice, no less, so I needed to sweep tiny bugs along with the rice. I remember thinking I wanted to get the house to it's pristine origins, whatever that might be.
Glancing up I saw my children (now young adults) at about 4 or 5 years old.They were dressed in those wonderful blanket sleepers of the 80's. I remember how wonderful it was to hug their little selves and as I did so, felt deeply sad that they really weren't that little any more. I asked my mother standing in the room if they looked little to her, and she assured me that they were really grown up. It bothered me, in my dream state, that only I could see them as little children.
The house looked like a family getting ready for Christmas and there was a large glass walk-in cabinet in the living room filled to the brim with rotating Christmas ornaments. It resembled a samll version of Frankenmuth. My daughter was reaching up to touch one of the whirling ornaments. As she turned to smile at me, I woke up feeling like I'd been somewhere "other-earthly."
The feelings of that dream have stayed with me most of the day.

Happy 4th of July

Was it a storm or are we in the middle of a war zone. For a while it was hard to tell as flashes of white light grazed the side of our house and the air rumbled. A bit of both as the evenings "neighborly celebrations" that blissfully ignored warnings about amateurs setting off fireworks merged with scattered thunderstorms. We glanced above our roof and wondered if the next flare would render us "roof-less." I can see celebrating our country's independence, I encourage it. Flags flying from porches, rising at the sound of our National Anthem, attending a service given by the vets. But the risk of life and limb (not to mention the trip to emergency) escapes me. So with my family, I huddled inside, escaped the mosquitos, and commemorated our country's independence with national celebrations on cable tv.

Summer Luncheon

Occasionally I get to have my nose in on other's doings and today was such a day. My sister, a successful musician and piano teacher had a special "end of year" luncheon for her piano students. And a nicer bunch of kids I have yet to meet. If they are any example, I can attest to the fact that today's kid are not going down the tubes. Bright, polite, talented, and well-behaved, they were a credit to their generation. I began to speculate why? Is it because piano lessons are not cheap? Or is it that they are from mostly upper middle class neighborhoods. Today's newpapers tell me neither could be a solid reason.
I thought of my own classrooms, some 25 years ago. I taught in a poverty-ridden, ethnically diverse, neighborhood. The classroom was a split second-third grade classroom; many families were transient, and I was pregnant with my first baby. Not ideal? It really was. I cannot recall any behavior problems, (I did however have one little girl with a permanent egg on her face who could never find a paper in her perpetually messy desk.) I think the key was they new from day one what to expect. I didn't have to be a talk show host, I needed to teach. It was a wonderful time. Parents were home, lunches were packed, homework was done by the students. Maybe 1981 was the end of a predictable time in our society. But today, for a couple of hours I revisited it.

Native American Image

This is a favorite image I never got to use. Sadly, the project for which it was created was depricated. I happened to run across the website of a colleague of mine who has so richly illustrated the Native American community and whose pieces are in galleries throughout the United States. This is "my two cents worth". It's a piece that shows the reverence this group of people have for family and the respect with which they treat their seniors. I hope I have done this theme justice.

New Things Old Things

Ever come to a point where the past and present merge? Or at the very least, meet. Today my youngest had an interview for a job at a facility attached to my old high school. The nuns retire here and she saw an ad in the paper advertising for a part time trainable position. I was thrilled. As she nervously filled out her application, I sat looking around this amazing facility. Amidst the contemporary eye-ball lighting, muted wall colors, I discovered that the furnishings were from the original building, built at the turn of the century. I had attended college in this building and had loved it's vintage look. AS various sisters moved through, coming and going from their outings, walks and activities, I detected my hands getting moist, a row of perspiration bubbles formed on my upper lip. I was once again 16 and waiting outside the principal's office. What tricks the mind plays on us. This is not about me, I had to remind myself; this is not my past or my future, but my daughter's present. I like that.

Father's Day

Made Mac salad for folks to take to Father's Day Celebration across town. Everybody had a great time. I'd had a few off days due to heat so "babysat" our sweet Lilly. She felt so down with everyone gone, (I don't count that much; I'm basically "mom" to her and while she loves me to pieces, I'm always just there) I worried that she was getting sick. The little "faker" moped around all day, chin to the ground. My boy and I got her out just before a big storm. Wind was blowing fiercely and we lost a number of limbs.
When the folks returned around 10:00, she got to run in the yard without a leash. She was her old self, with her favorite FOLGER'S can,running and growling to herself (I think that's to create more excitement.
Pleasant uneventful day for all of us. My favorite kind.

Cleveland and tents.

Yet another trip. This time for mdh. Traipsed to this perrenially foggy city. Made good time. Discovered navigational skills better than expected. Found a new route saving some mileage. That's good news considering gas prices. We fortunately had some saved up at Giant Eagle and got gas for .16/gal. That must be some sort of record. And home in time to see how everyone was. My youngest had babysat our Lilly and they had spent some quiet time in the tent. Ah, the tent, lovely home away from home; blithely set up in our yard and quietly killing the grass.
Sadly it comes down today, as I speak in fact. We will nag again, my youngest daughter and I for there is nothing quite like hard ground, molds dampness, mosquitos; all worth leaving an air conditioned house, to enjoy. ANd the first week in July will find us all once more under the stars, wondering which Roman candle will land in our yard and end our nights out forever.

Hidden Treasures

It was an unexpected surprise after coming through tiny little Lima, a town I immediately coined one of the dirtier little towns I've encountered. "Let's go on to Delphos," I suggested, the tiny digital camera literally burning in my hands. A preservationist at heart, I love the overlooked elements of Americana, and the billboard view of downtown Delphos promised to supply my fix.
Rising like a Phoenix above the sun-glinted trees was the most magnificent stone church. St. John the Evangelist Catholic Church.
"Wow," I gasped.Does Bishop _____ know about this one? There's one he forgot to tear down, close, re"muddle", or neglect to find a priest for. We rounded the corner and my family generously waited why I got as many pictures as I could. I circled the building, wishing I could get inside. I'd not seen a vintage building in this kind of repair and hoped that this wonderful quiet community knows what a treasure they have.

Semper Fi

Upon passing the funeral home at the end of town, we realized that the person being lain to rest was a child who attended kindergarten with my daughter. He hadn't gone to school with her all through high school, but I'm sure he brought cupcakes for significant parties and birthdays. He was 25 years old, and received a Purple Heart for his bravery in Iraq. Something else we noticed was the motorcycle gang, flag bearers lining the driveway in honor of this young man and in protection of family and friends who could be harassed by protestors. I didn't see protestors, and doubt that I would have in our small town, but it was a kindness.

Lunch and changes

We all arrive at a crossroads in our lives and none moreso than my darling young lady daughter. Lots of conversation about programs and where lives are directed. Wonderful lunch with sister and her friend. Chimichangas and sherbet. Fun, jokes and conversation. But back home to serious conversations. I wonder how I'd illustrate someone at the crossroads of their life. Not sure. Wonder if we could solve it in a half hour like the Gilmore Girls. Ah, Luke would come in and save the day I'm sure.

A New Day

Surprised by SOLUMEDROL treatment arriving in by FED EX this AM. Didn't expect treatment until the 31st. This means we can all go with JUJU to Lima. Day trips are always great and welcomed. Might do a dry run today. And on a nice sunny Saturday with lots of kids out and enjoying the day; I'm just as glad to be going. Spent some time along the river as is our usual haunt. Campsite at Hull Prairie was pretty well vacant, the walleye run now over and the river too high for the bass run that usually comes in June.
Then dinner out, a treat, with a Reuben from Arby's and Diet Mountain Dew. So thirsty and it was so refreshing.
Cleaned area this evening around the area that had been inhabited by Pidge. Time to contemplate, remember, and be grateful for her wonderful 11 years of companionship.

Laughter and Tears

We all saw this coming; the demise of a dear friend. My pigeon, Pidge, has lived with me in my studio for 11 years and judging from the early events in her life was possibly 12 or 13 when we said our goodbyes. She survived pneumonia and probably succumbed to cancer. I will always be grateful for the special veternarians who made her last days comfortable and her passing easier. I hurt today, along with my other family members; dread going into the room, my studio when she left such an imprint. But wonder where else the lessons learned could have been learned without the pain. I think of the funny things she did and it brings laughter. The last week or so, "force feeding her" brought a chuckle to my daughter and I as she characteristically swung her head around spitting meds and a yeasty smelling food in our direction.
She never left "nesting" mode, tugging on shoelaces when she could no longer fly. As we saw her neurolgical system seriously compromised, we knew a final decision had to be made. She passed peacefully with mild anaesthetic at Dr.Tim's office. We appreciate the kindness and compassion of this fine vet and his staff.

The Road Not Taken

I always loved this poem by Robert Frost:



TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Like the poet, I chose the road less travelled, at least by many of my illustrator contemporaries. I didn't have the opportunity to attend many conferences and as a writer and illustrator have often been conflicted as to which to pursue more passionately. I was probably one of the last to open an online journal and to become agented.
I pondered all this as we river walked last night. No sooner had we gotten out of the van than we were met with heavy sprinkles. Not a deluge, mind you, just sprinkles that sharp and cold would have sent most people back to the van. We ended up in a gazebo type shelter over looking a pond. My daughter teased me about looking like the scene in SOUND OF MUSIC where Rolf is pursuing young Liesl in the glass gazebo.
The rain let up and we wandered down a hill and to the main road which we followed along the river. Suddenly my cane wnet nearly to the ground and I realized I'd lost a bolt and wing nut rending my cane pretty useless. (I can walk without it, but use if for balance for long distances and to maintain energy especially if a leg goes out; a nasty symptom of MS.)
A quick trip to a hardware store and my dear husband's ingenuity, it was quickly usable again.
Once home, I had some internet time and discovered paths some old online friends had taken. Enviably clever, moving from their traditional mediums with skills I sadly don't possess had shown them to have smart business savvy. So I glowered through the evening wondering what piece of the puzzle I'm missing. Then it occurred to me that while we're watching what others are doing, we might be missing our own uniqueness. A reminder to happily stay on our less travelled roads.

Treeman

A favorite illo done for WEE ONES ONLINE. I think of this now as we enjoy new spring buds. The meadow walk, freshly mowed is filled with a tree called "redbud".

Beginnings and endings

Therapy ended for me today. Glad in a way. I don't have a problem that can be rehabilitated so having the tools to go on at home is nice. And my book finally arrived at the library. It's been on reserve. ARCHITECTURAL DRAWINGS by Rendow Yee. Wonderful detailed book of architectural drawing and sketching from the representational to very technical. I can't wait to dive in page by page.
Need to re-send a watercolor and colored pencil to editor. Australia is a long way even for email and sometimes things get lost. New book (illustrated, not written by me) soon to be released. Will eagerly promote it.
Enjoyed walk along the river again. Took the meadow walk with my family. Dinner in the car with windows down. Wendy's chicken sandwich. My favorite. It sounds strange to eat out in the car but it's much like an old fashioned picnic with windows down; and we have our privacy and space. Great fun.

Boys on the Beach

Love the summery image of children playing near the water. This is a rough graphite image. Enjoy

Schedules

It always happens. My best intentions foiled by someoneelse plans. I'm going to be setting new studio hours. More serious. More shortterm long term plans. today should be an at home plan, and if I work it right, determine EXACTLY when I sit down at the drawing table, I should get something accomplished. I have an idea for a seasonal series and the "winterone" is already on the lightbox.

River walk.

Today we wandered along the river. I kept wishing I'd had a sketchbook to render the fishermen getting the last of the walleye run. Lilly wandered beside Bob and my kids picked up doll flies and aother random fishing tools left behind. I spent some time wondering how one captures the last of the day's sunlight glistening on the water.