It was like the accumulated stress of all the ages pounding in my head. I felt quite old, and broken. So I laid down on my soft, sweet, little bed, and closed my eyes. And like a magical parade, all the Ancestors came into view, one by one, each one touching my heart, helping me breathe. And everything came together; everything made sense. Thank you Daddy Harold, for the piano, and all your piano lessons. Thank you for letting me love the animals so much. Thank you for showing me that hobbies were like oxygen, fuel for a beautiful life.
Thank you Grandmother Tula. I have your pictures now, even though we never met. I feel your heart, and some days, you are my greatest strength. And I long, no, I yearn for the moment in time when I will see you, but I know you see me now. It is the one constant in my life. I know my love for animals came from you, and it has been my greatest gift.
Thank you Sitting Bull and thank you Crazy Horse, for helping me remember a time I could never forget. Thank you for helping me see that this world was fake, wrong and there is beauty in small things. Like the cry of the hawk overhead, or the laughter of a child, running free. Thank you for leaving behind the noble Mustangs, who have suffered the way you did, but still endure, still inspire us all, just like you have.
Thank you Great Grandmother Elizabeth, for your lovely straight hair, and your determined soul. I see your picture, standing there in your long, heavy skirt, holding your broom on your front porch, surrounded by so many people, young and old, and even though the place where your house stood is changed, I still see it as it was, when you were there, and I will never ever forget you. I am you. And I am so very proud.
Thank you Joseph Proctor, for showing me elegance, dignity and your great love of music and the old composers. Thank you for letting such a little child, whose feet could not even touch the floor, who couldn’t always interpret the notes on the page, watch you play, watch you bring the music on the page to life. How you sat down on the bench with such authority, hands moving across the keys carefully, old fingers, strong heart. I will never forget that room, with the beautiful giant fern in the window, or the lovingly polished grand piano, or the way you always wore your black suits, with the skinny black ties. Thank you for the beautiful book of music you gave me, and for the wonderful message inside. Thank you for the unexpected postcard you mailed to me from St. Louis, when you were gone on vacation. It was the first one I ever received, and I felt important, and loved.
And finally, thank you to my mother, Missy, who hurt me often, and with such precise focus, that it taught me how not to live. All your years of tears and drama, have left a mark on me for sure, but I’ve turned them into my greatest lessons. My tears are never random now, nor chronic. When I cry, it is for the greatest and kindest of heart intentions. Thank you, my mother, for showing me that people can change, even in the last chapters of their life. Thank you for sewing for me that beautiful blue jacket with embroidered animals all over it, and for drawing those sweet pictures for me that last Christmas. Thank you for coming to sit in my car that day when I was so alone, and for leaving that beautiful birthday card right on the top box for me to see, so I’d know for sure you were there.
And lastly, but not least, thank you Mr. Roberts. I will never forget your clean overalls, and your red checkered short-sleeved shirt underneath, or the way you laughed at me when I showed up in your yard one day covered in scratches and mom’s merthiolate, from my latest attempt to hold a stray cat. Thank you sir, for taking my little hand, and walking me down the fence line, showing me all those amazing, bright and beautiful zinnias, especially the red ones, taller than me! I will never forget the heat of the sun that day, or the intense smell of green they offered, as I tried so hard to smell them. You were wonderful, Mr. Roberts, and I shall never forget you.
Today, this day in August of 2020, as we are surrounded by chaos and confusion, I feel surrounded by love, from both the living and the dead, and you give me great inspiration to keep going — to create a world worth living in. I am forever grateful to you all.
in the life and mind of an artist... 