You’ve experienced sweet interruptions to your ongoing life rhythm, right?

My dear sister Louisa just “happened by” as she intimated. A day long drive from Sorrento, Maine to Squam Lake: not what I would call easy. She was glowing from the good times she had enjoyed with family and friends this summer. I loved seeing her so happy and we chatted up a storm about who, when, what.

At one point she asked me why I left Maine in the early 80’s. I’d lived there year round for 4 years, or was it 5? I had no plans to move. At the time, I was taking art classes at the University of Maine in Orono in order to get certified to teach children in that state. I found the faculty to be excellent: hidden treasures, miles from the Boston – NYC intensity, but well aware of all that was happening on the art scene.

It came as a shock out of the blue when I was awarded best artist in the school. Best artist? Me? First of all, I hadn’t known there was a contest. Second of all, why me? The Grumbacher paint company had sent in their critics to visit the studios and the gallery incognito, and afterwards make the judgment.

The award triggered my memories of growing up with a father who made such judgments. When we were young, he would bring home reams of his architect paper and lay it out on the floor for my siblings and me to make drawings. AND then…

he would select the ones to save. Mine were never among them. Lisa and Julie. They were the artists.

This best artist award must have been a mistake.

At the end of the year, I left Maine and moved to Northampton, MA. to learn dance. Surely, there was no way I could win at that. There was no history of best dancers in my family: for me “turnout” was parallel, I was naturally pigeon-toed.

Maybe a year or 2 later, someone turned to me and asked, so…why aren’t you painting? I had no good answer. I bought a few supplies and started exploring.

Aaaaaaaah. What a feeling. Home.

It felt so good, I wanted to be back in the mix again. I applied to one of those high pressure art schools in Boston. It was a contest I KNEW I as entering. I wanted the best: I wanted to go to the Museum School.

Once accepted, I told myself I better love art school, because I know I’m going to hate Boston. But… I ended up loving both. The Museum School was a dream. And I raised a family in Brookline. Then went to art graduate school in Boston. it could not have suited me better.

Back to that question of interruptions ~ clearly, some can have more impact. They can test and strengthen your resolve. I wonder if you’ve been there?

And then there are others…

Like this one,

So sweet.