Something happened to me en route to adulthood. I can remember being asked to be a flower girl for the homecoming court when I was in second grade. Was I nervous or shy about walking down a paper-covered aisle amongst a gymnasium full of people? Nuh-uh. I was happy and excited. My hair bounced with round fat curls held back by a new headband. Grandma lovingly sewed a blue organza dress for the occasion and I felt like a princess. As the homecoming candidates walked the aisle, I tossed petals with exuberance. Being chosen as part of the royal court meant someone thought I was “good enough,†or, “pretty enough,†and let’s just say that was a refreshing change from how my brothers treated me at home. My mojo was blossoming.
In junior high and high school, despite a rough and tumble few years at home, I felt pretty sassy. An unwritten rule in our rural K-12 school was that juniors and seniors were given first priority when selecting cast members for class plays. Therefore a hue and cry was heard when I, a nobody eighth-grader, tried out and was given a small part over a junior who wanted it. That was unheard of! Had hell indeed frozen over? After the passed-over student complained to the principal, I was surprised and delighted to hear I was able to keep the part. The jilted junior was offered work on the set. She declined with a middle finger acting as the exclamation point.
Continuing down my sassy path, I often wore clothes that were different than other girls in my community. Sometimes they were trendy (maxi skirts when mini’s were the norm in our area), sometimes they were controversial (I opted not to wear a bra when I performed in the aforementioned play…can you say scandal?), and sometimes they were just, um, unique (red, white, and blue bibbed shorts and knee-high sneakers in honor of the bi-centennial). In retrospect, for good or bad, I have always been trying to explore my creative nature.
But now, in my midlife years, whenever I write or take photographs I’m hesitant to share them because I keep thinking my creative self needs improvement. Lots and lots of improvement. More lessons, more learning, more reading up on the subject(s).
Another part of me believes I need to stop reading and to start doing. There are invaluable lessons to be learned by trial and error, failure, and success. Therefore, in addition to the Fine Art America photography (see “store†on my homepage), I’m starting to dabble with other “creations†in a self-made store within the company Zazzle. I’m just starting, so my store has limited offerings at this point. But if you’d like to see them please check out:
zazzle.com/agingschmaging*
I feel shy and humble to mention my store, but it’s time to walk the walk. Here’s to the creative fire that smolders within many of us Boomer women. And, with even a little encouragement, may that which now smolders burn brilliantly far into the future.
