childhood dreams

I'm in the middle of reading a book called, The Last Lecture, by Randy Pausch. It's about a man in his mid-forties who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and given just months to live. As a college professor, he decided to give a "Last Lecture" as a gift to his children whom he'd not live to see grow up. It's a summary of his life and the wisdom he wanted to pass along. His courage and optimistic outlook, even in the face of death, is inspirational. He makes me want to follow his advice and consciously choose to savor each moment and every day.

One of the main lessons he imparts is how important it is to hold onto your childhood dreams as you become an adult. He was fortunate enough to live out most of his, from working with Disney as an Imagineer, to winning the biggest stuffed animal at the carnival. His stories are humorous and heartfelt.

My childhood dreams were simple. I wanted to become an artist and I wanted to fly. I used to duct-tape huge cardboard wings on my arms and run down the hills by our house on the Army base and I swear my feet actually left the ground at least once. But that wasn't the end of my flying experience. Years later, my husband and I were driving along a back road one day and saw some aerolight planes circling above us. We decided to find out where they were coming from and found a small, make-shift airport nearby. The people hanging out there looked more like members of a motorcycle gang than bonafide pilots, but they were very friendly. After trying to sell us some "classes" and having us decline, one guy offered to take me up for free. I shrugged and said sure.

It was awesome. Because it was so light, it felt like riding on a flying bicycle or a kite. The plane consisted of a simple frame, a couple seats, a small engine and of course, wings. The air rushed past and as far as I can remember there was no windshield or any thing between myself and the air. He circled us around the airport and I could see my tiny husband waving from below. I had butterflies the entire time. I didn't even consider how bad it would have been if we'd crashed. That was before children so I didn't think about those kind of things back then. A few years later when we signed up for life insurance, it actually asked on the application if I'd ever flown in an aerolight plane. I guess it can be the indicator of a propensity toward risky behavior. I think I kept it to myself.

As for becoming an artist, that road has been long and windy. As a child, I spent hours in my room gluing, cutting and drawing. My favorite subject in school was always art and I looked forward to class every time. When I chose a college, I was the only one in my family to buck tradition and not go to Texas A&M. They didn't 'do much art' there, so instead I headed to SWT in San Marcos as an art major. During the first semester I was not quite the star I had been in high school. There were multitudes of talented students and I was discouraged by how lacking I seemed to be. If I'd had more confidence I would have stuck it out and tried another semester of art classes, but instead I changed my major to elementary education. Big mistake. It was the first of a couple changes that ultimately led me to burn-out and drop-out of school. If I'd only had more faith in my artistic abilities to start with it could have saved me a lot of frustration (and my parents, too).

Years later, after a few babies, I missed creating (art, not babies). I began to dabble in paint and clay again and it felt great. It was the outlet I needed to keep sane with three little boys under the age of five. Problem was, there was no real time to invest. I remember painting at the kitchen table as I nursed Cooper, his little arm reaching out to swipe at my brush every now and then. But I didn't give up. Every free moment I got, I grabbed my brushes and paint. It was amazing how short nap-times seemed to be when I was in the middle of a project.

After selling a couple of things and getting positive feedback from family and friends, my confidence grew and I realized, hey, I don't have to have an official degree to do what I want to do. My validation doesn't have to come from a university. I love to create and I'm pretty good at it! Heck, I'm really good. It's my thing. Not everyone has boxes of paint, beads, clay, ribbon and tools in their basement. And not everyone get breathless when they walk into Hobby Lobby. But I do.

At our new house, I'll have a 400 square foot basement to turn into my very own studio. It'll be my own little slice of heaven and the fulfillment of a childhood dream. To top it off, after months of searching and waiting, I found an electric potter's wheel on craigslist for a fraction of the cost of a new one. They are high in demand, believe me. I'm also doing my first craft-show next month in Colorado Springs to sell my glass and clay pendants. It should be an educational experience and maybe the beginning of "expanding" things. Things are moving right along.

Recently, while ordering some business cards for my home-based business, I had to fill in the field for job title. I thought about it a minute and then typed in "artist". Hell yeah.

Childhood dreams rock.