She had said that we needed to write more often.
Not to each other, but to write.
I couldn’t have agreed more, although to type that makes it sound just silly. Like a sliding scale of ‘do not agree, somewhat agree, strongly agree….and COULD NOT AGREE MORE!’
Still, I took what she said to heart and I realized that while it may never amount to much, there is something to be said for getting ones thoughts out of your head and onto ‘paper’. If I were a more talented mortal, perhaps I would draw. Art class was not something that I ever exceled at, and truth be known, in my very early days I was probably the kid who if he wasn’t eating the play dough, was at least contemplating it off in a quiet corner.
In fact, to illustrate the point, one of my memories from an actual art class was doing Paper Mache masks. We were cutting the newspaper into strips prior to dipping it and I can still remember the ¼ page ad for “Smokey and the Bandit” with a picture of Burt Reynolds and a very cute Sally Fields (before everyone really liked her). So that’s what I took away from art class.
Still, as I grow older (at an increasingly alarming rate of acceleration), I find that I appreciate art more and more. Sometimes, I even get to be part of the art. One of my favorite pieces involved a pencil sketch that involved, among other things, a version of myself and a rubber chicken.
True story, I’m not even kiddin’ ya!
A cliché it may be, but you don’t always find art hidden away in a gallery of faces with no names.
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