(blackberry drawing, AW, April 13)
“If you believe that the act of creation is living, you don’t demand perfection. You only try to get closer to great harmonies”.
Louise Nevelson, sculptor
I’m fortunate. As a child, I had adults in my life who were kind to me. Sadly, every time we turn on the radio these days we hear about children who have had their childhoods taken away from them. Today I will focus on those gentle adults who only did good and set good examples. They seemed to see something lovely when they looked at my sister and I, something beyond the scabby-kneed, freckly-faced kids we saw in the mirror.
When we visited Grandma, we came away with an orange and an apple and five pence for the money box. We saw how the elderly should be respected, because our maiden aunts tended Grandma reverently. Aunty Doris and Aunty Mary took us to see Peter Pan at the cinema; they put our names down to see the circus on their work’s trip. Aunty Laura drew a crinoline lady for me to embroider when I was poorly.
And, last, but not least, there was “Aunty Eileen” and “Uncle Fred” who had a large reproduction Degas, of an exquisite ballerina, on the wall of their small terraced house. The adults sat in the lounge and sister and I sat in the dining room. Such a fireplace in that humble home with pictures carved into the wood, I adored it. In the alcove a large built in cupboard contained all different kinds of paper, crayons and pencils. Need I say, we were happily lost in worlds of our own making.
My favourite hymn seems to fit today’s blog (yes, even heathens such as me have favourite hymns):