Do the wonders of my family never cease?
My dad painted this picture of the house some of our family stayed in during our trip to NYC. I especially love the window to the right and the greenery at the bottom left. While a bunch of us slept elsewhere, this place was "home base" for all of our festivities. He captured our home-away-from-home perfectly.
Since he has retired, he has returned to watercolor painting. He has always been an artist; in fact, he was a professional potter for much of my childhood and I was well into my teens before I realized that some people actually purchased the dishes they ate off of. I have many fond memories of running around at street art fairs in San Francisco, dodging in and out between tables of hand-crafted jewelry, tapestries, pottery, paintings, etc. It was a great way to grow up, surrounded by people who take in the world and give something beautiful -- or at least interesting -- back.
Between my artist father and my writer mother (and throw in both of their experiments as musicians!), I think I know where I get the urge to be, if not the practice of being, creative. What a gift! And what a curse as well, as I think almost daily about what creative endeavor I wish I were engaging in but am in fact not. I have the will, but not yet the way. What I do have are a bunch of whiny weak excuses. Well, that and five strong, compelling excuses!
But the will does not leave. I will find some way to create...if only to keep up with my family.