Full Circle

I recently wrote an article about picking cotton. We’re all in the same field, but different rows. Your row doesn’t look like my row. The cotton looks the same, but your row is different.

I’ve always been taken back when someone is jealous of my row or wants my place. I don’t know why any one would want it. It takes who I am, quirks and warts and everything to labor consistently for what I do. There is no way that I’m able to work your row. It takes who you are to work it.

One of the things that My Sweet Al and I have done in our row, which seemed ridiculous and unimportant at the time, was having Christian Artist and Writers’ Retreats. In 1986 there was nothing in the organized church that gave the artist any verification or a platform for their work.

They did let us decorate a lot of bulletin boards and plan mother and daughter banquets and teas, even fashion shows. They needed someone with a creative bent who would do them.

Al and I started with six artists from Albuquerque. We sat around for the weekend here in Pagosa, did nothing but enjoy each other. We all said, we have to do this again. We were in our early thirties and forties when we started coming together. Year after year we added a few more people to the group and had a bigger and more structured program for speakers, art and writing classes.

I’ve heard from people in our past who have come to our Artist and Writers’ Retreats each year. They all requested to meet again in Pagosa with the old gang. They miss each other and want to have a reunion.

Something in me kept those retreats going every year. I always wondered why I was doing them, they took a lot of work and I usually came up short on the financial end. I wanted everyone to come, so I’d figure out how I could get them here, with or without money. I thought I was just a lousy business manager. Probably was, but what I lacked in good money sense I made up in friendships.

Seven years ago, my son-in-law came to one of the retreats and said, “You have all old people in your group.” I was shocked. I looked around. He was right. All the people who we met together year after year had gotten older. I had never seen them anyway but who they were when we started meeting. Yes, today, they are in their sixties, seventies and eighties and still look young to me.

When several friends approached me about having a reunion in Pagosa I told them my bag was full. I didn’t think I could do another thing. But last year I emptied my hands of several duties. I didn’t want to, but they were either taken out of my hands or I gave them up freely. It was all about change. In order to move forward I had to make some changes.

Well, believe it or not, having an artist and writer’s reunion fits into our row. If it’s going to happen Al and I’ve got to do it. We are the ones who lives here, have the local resources available, the mailing list, and all the contacts we’ve made over the last thirty years.

As artists and writers we question many times why our work hasn’t gone full circle. We painted canvases and written books, which are still on our shelves and in the closet. We were there at the right time and place, but our work wasn’t recognized or appreciated. It didn’t seem to count for anything.

Maybe we’ve been looking at the wrong thing. Because of the art, and now writing, I’ve met wonderful people who have cared about me and what I’ve done. They’ve become my very good friends. They have built my faith so I wouldn’t quit, encouraged me to keep going, and taught me how to be better. They are the dearest people in the world to me.

Maybe the full circle had more to do with the people along the way and not the craft. For me to pull off a reunion for my artist and writer friends will bring us full circle. We will hear about how we’ve all played into each other’s lives and words they spoke to each other years ago. Some of their words have kept us on the right path and made our lives a little easier to live.

It’s not about how much I painted, or how much I sold. It’s not about how I got published or finished writing a book. It’s about the people, and how we’ve treated each other along the way.

Final Brushstroke! When I go in the grocery story someone tells me they read my articles, and I’m always shocked. For a writer their words are saying thank you, keep doing what you’re doing and stay encouraged.

You have all helped me stay on my row. I hope I’ve done some of that for you. We desperately need each other.