My Claim to Fame as an Artist

I was reminded by a friend that I haven't blogged for awhile. There has been a blog dancing around in my head ever since I heard that my oldest granddaughter, Amaris, won first place in the city-wide homeschoolers art contest. Being proud of her is a given. My memory is not so happy as her victory. In fourth grade my artwork, a picture of a daddy owl and his son the baby owl in lovely fall browns and oranges, was picked by my teacher for the city-wide art contest. My parents were flabbergasted. No one in our family had ever been detected as having even a smidgen of art talent. The Sunday of the art show came. Mother, Daddy and I donned our best clothes and set out for the showing of all the art work. Up and down the aisles of the art show we walked. We did not see the picture. We retraced our steps our eyes glued to each picture. My art creation was not there. My parents went to the curators of the artwork. The curators checked the back workroom. The picture was not there. The curators apologized profusely and promised that they would continue to look for the picture. It was never found.. In my Walter Middy role I like to think of my picture hanging in some renowned art museum sold to them for thousands by some very art-savvy worker at the art show who appreciated its value and hoped to secretly profit from its sale. When I escape my Walter Middy role, I picture it lying in the trash at the bottom of the barrel which is where it belonged. My day as an artist came and then was incinerated with the rest of the rubbish in the barrel.