Lessons in Living

While I try to maintain my own philosphy of living in the present, it is difficult not to address the present "global crisis" our world faces at this time. I have tried to stay away from the constant barrage of news, political pundits, economic forecasts and doomsday purveyors. Don't misunderstand....I am not hiding my head in the sand....although it is tempting to pull up roots and retire with my husband to that Polynesian island that I fell in love with not long ago.

However, when I hear the concerns of recession, hard times ahead, etc., I am comforted and reminded of the lessons learned from my parents, who lived through and survived the "Great Depression". They were sharecroppers, no home, no assets and five children to feed and clothe. My mother was a fighter, she was resourceful, fierce in her determination to provide for her family. My father was a laborer...hard work was all he knew...and he never faltered. My sister has often said, "We had no money...but we were never poor." Our parents always found a way to provide not only the necessities but occasional surprises. It was years later that we learned of the difficult hardships and sacrifices they made for us. My father always asked us, as young children and later older adults..."Do you need anything?" My mother was thrifty to the end. When we went through her things when she died, we discovered carefully pressed sheets of aluminum foil and dozens of margarine tubs. She was the original recycler. Nothing was wasted, nothing was discarded.

She loved to entertain her family. She worked for days making tamales at Christmas to share with all her friends and family. It was her gift to us. They, my parents, were happiest when we were all together. And so were we.

Did we siblings fight over any of the material things they left us? No....we fought over the dozens of frozen tamales my mom had in her freezer. I make them now with her recipe but as my son says to me....they almost taste like Grandma's but not quite. We all know the most precious ingredient that's missing.

I remind myself of their strength and love even when times were hard. In a disposable society today that yearns for a quick fix...I reflect on the fact that they never discarded or took anything for granted and family was their most treasured asset. Their values and principles were forged from their struggles and determination that we, their children, would be good citizens of the world.

Now as I look at my collection of "Depression Glass", I have to smile at the irony that it has become a "collectable" item. Something pretty, delicate and valuable that came out of hard times reminds me , even we can rise as the "Phoenix out of the ashes".

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Paints

Once a month, my art class goes out to paint en plein air, out in the fresh air. We have traveled locally...to the Ventura Harbor, the Camarillo environs, and as far away as Santa Barbara. I love painting outdoors, it presents a challenge to me.

I am a detailed realistic painter but in order to paint outdoors, you must forego details and focus on one or two areas of what you see, paint quickly, loosely, impressionistic, capturing the spirit of the subject. I fall in love with the landscape and it becomes overwhelming. I want to encompass it all. I don't want to lose the shadows or the way light hits on something particular.

I take my camera for photographic reference but a photograph, while helpful, leaves my vision of what it was, flat, one dimensional. We have time constraints as a group and the light changes. So one must work with value paintings, painting the shadows in first, deciding on the darker values, leaving patches of light and filling in the color later.

I love these outings because my group, varied in age and gender, provides me with social interaction with people who are creative, fun, and above all, willing to put themselves and their art "out there" for scrutiny. We leave the secure and safe confines of our classroom, our own studios and venture out to the open spaces where we are forced to paint with abandon. As in life, we must be willing to leave our own "comfort zones" and take risks.

Who knows? We might create a wonderful landscape of own making.