Packing

Making a move after living in a house for 30 years is monumental and with the addition of 42 years of teaching materials it is overwhelming. There have been moments of joy coming upon notes from students giving testimonials of their fabulous experiences in my classes. From the cooking debacles at New Fairfield High School when students wanted to eat the cookies rather keep them for the intended bake sale, to the infancy of the paper dragons at Meeting House Hill School when we morphed them into other beings and to Farmingville Elementary School when students had to sing to get their hats back because they failed to remove it before entering the building. These are the accolades that every teacher needs to re-experience at the end of a worthwhile career.
There have been moments of sadness reading notes from my mother in her last days of dealing with cancer yet offering her words of support in dealing with a heart wrenching divorce. Coming upon cards and notes from my daughter, Cole, (one who never wrote letters, but showered me with cards for every occasion) would elicit moments of debilitating sorrow at the loss of a life so young. Yet, I'm reminded that there is joy to be found in the knowledge that her love for me was so genuine and everlasting. These are the words and letters I can't bear to let go.
Figuring out what to do with family treasures brought me to a standstill at times until I could make a decision that I felt was the right one. I wrangled with Cole's wedding gown for a bit and finally decided to box it and save it for the christening gown of those yet to be great grand children. Her other belongings have been a bit easier to let go.
And, now, back to the never ending packing. The studio beckons...

Friends

Darlene and I have been friends since 1975 when we met in a fibers class taught by Dr. Mary Ruth Smith at the University of Houston. We were fast friends, and Darlene later became my daughter's godmother. Darlene and I enrolled in all of Mary Ruth's fiber classes and fell in love with the media. We continued our friendship outside of class. I visited her wherever she moved in Texas. When I moved to Connecticut, we met up in New York. We were fortunate to have a grand adventure in Italy in1997 when we studied at La Romita School of Art in Terni, Umbria. We had 2 weeks of watercolor instruction with Betty Lynch and another week and a half touring Tuscany on our own. We laughed and ate ourselves across Tuscany. What an adventure and it continues...