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Another Gem from the Christmas Memory Box

Christmas 1990 was unlike any other I had celebrated. It was different because I was engaged to be married to The Hubs, a miraculous development that occurred right around Thanksgiving that year. But it was also really special for another reason... I was living in Brooklyn, New York, at the time, finishing out my third year with a dance company while also working part-time to make ends meet. Jim was then living in Macomb, Illinois, where he was finishing his master's degree. We didn't like being apart, but it was a necessary evil only made bearable by knowing that we'd be married in 1991. We hoped the time would move quickly. Fortunately, my br illiant  fiancé wa s really good at finding odd gigs as a lighting or set designer that could bring him to New York so we could spend time together, and this holiday was no different. So, he was able to come to Brooklyn to stay for a few weeks to work in between semesters at university and see me. Each year when I lived away from hom...

FAVORITE PHOTO

by Nancy Gilbride Casey


This favorite photo of many I have taken over the years comes with a special anecdote.

When our daughter Anne (then known as Annie), was preschool age, she dedicated great parts of each day drawing with markers, painting with watercolors, coloring in books. In summer, she drew with chalk on the sidewalk. 

Every gift-giving occasion was another opportunity to buy a new box of crayons or paints, and reams of paper, tablets large and small, and sheaves of manila and construction paper to feed her never-ending appetite to draw.

Her artwork covered our refrigerator, was sent on to grandparents, and hung on our office bulletin boards. 

Art was already ingrained into her little personality.

Each day Annie created literally a dozen or more creations, in a free flow of imagination, wild, exotic, and uniquely from her sometimes funny and observant perspective.

On the occasion of this photo, I captured her one morning, sitting at her little art easel, paintbrush in hand, engrossed in one of that day's many creations.

"Are you going to be an artist when you grow up, Annie?" I asked.

Without taking her eyes off her artwork, and without skipping a beat, she replied,

"But Mommy...I already AM an artist!"

To this day, I can't argue with that.

 

Until next time...
 
This post was inspired by Amy Johnson Crowe's 52 Ancestor in 52 Weeks Challenge

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