Almost daily, I think about how invigorating it would be to have the ability to draw. Many years ago, after enrolling in an art academy, I walked into a life drawing class. When I observed the nude female model and my drawing that resembled an anorexic whale, I decided that art school was not for me. As a child, I’m sure that I indulged in the usual construction paper or popsicle stick art but (thankfully) none of that remains.
As I envision the ability to draw, I imagine capturing the face of a child mastering multiplication problems. It also makes me visualize magnificent landscapes of my beloved Rocky Mountains. And I dream about creating a diorama of US history creating images and figures of our heroes, victories and highlights.
Regrettably, my talents have never included visual representations. My children’s stories about an extraordinary, talented hippo named Helen will remain unillustrated until I secure an illustrator. Using a camera to capture physical wonders must be my preferred medium.
During times such as these, I remind myself to be grateful for the ability to utilize the splendor and texture of language. Doing so enables me to assist others who may stumble or struggle with self-expression. It allows me to make meager contributions to my world that may illuminate or educate others.
Ultimately, I resign myself to the realization that my clumsy stick figures suggest that I should stick to words rather than water colors. The rest of the world will receive those words that I will select for my own type of canvas. Shalom.