I am back

How much we want to be recognized!! Here I am! Here I am! Some dream of that ’15 min of fame’ promised to us by an artist in the 60’s. Or some just want there spouse to remember that special day! We are willing to make fools out of ourselves or let whispers of self doubt eat away at us!

When I was little Ronald McDonald challenged us to have a back yard carnival to raise money for sick kids or send in a donation. I of course needed to have a carnival. It was sad, even pitiful! We made our donation and my Dad made sure it was a lot more than the two or three dollars I managed to get out of my cousins... I was heart broken.

I made with my friend a float for the 4th of July parade, I might have been 11…the looks on the faces of those judges was not ‘oh how cute’ but instead ‘why?’ Again pitiful!

I threw two great Christmas Parties and learned that I never should have tried for the third. Almost no one showed up.

I just held my first Art Show. It was attended by those I love and who love me. Strong women who have been my friends for years. Strong women who helped raise a very complicated stubborn child, another strong woman (my mother) would have flown out if only I asked). Gentle men who would hold me up in a storm. New Friends who thought nothing of taking out a few minutes of their day to make another smile. My Best Friend at my side knowing the chances of me not being hurt were slim. It was amazing in that none of my art would appeal to any of them, (I knew it and they knew it)

Where is the pitiful? I chose to focus on the one friend I saw in the parking lot picking up her car after an outing with friends and head home without what seemed to be a second thought about me. I knew about her day, I knew it would be a long one, but all I could see was she couldn’t stop in and see me.

I could have smiled about the fun we had at that Carnival, the bravery in pulling that silly wagon through the streets of Chester, the memories of those Christmas party’s and the 97 dozen cookies I made. The pride I had both in Georgia’s and my art, how good it felt to express ourselves and bravely share with others.

How much I want to be recognized. I am willing to make a fool out of myself but without fail I will let the self doubt eat away at my heart. What is my point? Do I want you to feel sorry for me? No. I want to recognize myself and show my daughter that fame will last for 15 min. so let’s remember the fun!