Wednesday, April 17, 2013


Today a memory arrived in the mail.    A package from my Dad, a painting of me when I was 10 years old.

We lived in Springfield, MO during the early 1970's and Dad was an editor of a magazine called YOUTH ALIVE.

One day while visiting Dad at his office, the photographer came in and suggested that a photo of me looking sad would go along with this article called A SHADOWED RECOLLECTION.  It's a short story about a 9 year old girl whose mother is killed in a car crash.  He told me to look out the window and to think of something sad, thus my sad look.  At the time I felt very special being asked to do this and to be in a magazine.

I had totally forgotten about this day, but when I opened the many memories came flooding back.  I recall the feeling of being proud of my Dad for having an important job in a nice office building.  How the other workers came into his office smiling and with suggestions for the magazine.  Seeing my handsome Dad in his suit.  Having the photo taken.

I loved my life in Missouri.  We lived in a suburb that was built in the woods.  So much exploring and playing with the other kids in the neighborhood.  Rollerskating, swimming, pets, Barbies, climbing trees, motorcycles, slumber parties.................

Our lives changed drastically in a few years with a move to Arizona.  So along with the good memories, I started to think about bad things.  I had a physical reaction that began with my heart thudding in my chest, tears welling up and a dizzy feeling.  So I spent the afternoon having a therapy session with my husband and then desperately needing cocktails.  Maybe someday I will have the courage to share some of the life changing events here on my blog.  It's crazy how I can get so triggered by a photo to go from good memories to feeling like I need a Psychiatrist.

The painting of me was done by my Dad OWL.  He kept this issue all these years and regardless of what I said above, I am touched by his gesture and appreciative of this memory.