In recent blogs I have touched on southern charm, and life in my beloved home state of Kentucky. However, if anyone expects to hear ME talk with a southern accent, I daresay you may be disappointed. Why? Because my parents are from Chicago, and an area near Chicago. I was born there...but have lived in Kentucky since I was six, so to ME, Kentucky IS my home state.💕 Like many native Kentuckians, I have good grammar. So, the best way to describe my "accent," is I have a very soft sort of Chicagoan one. Still, when I am in northern states, it is pointed out to me I sound "southern." Or get teased for being a "hillbilly." This is when I point out to them, "If you think THIS is 'southern,' you have a treat in store for when you do hear a native Kentuckian." And I make sure to get across the fact just because people have a unique way of speaking doesn't make them less a human or mean they are ignorant. THEN what I get from native Kentuckians, and northerners living in Kentucky, with never any disrespect intended is, "I can't place your accent. Why you're not from around here! Where ARE you from?"🤣
Once a lady approached me after a talk I gave to a Women's Group. She was a Social Worker and had a client who happened to be a Little Person. Her client was much older than me, still lived with her parents, never learned to drive, and never went anywhere unless she was with her parents. Her loving parents were so overprotective she became homebound. The Social Worker thought if she and her parents could meet and talk with me this would be a catalyst of change because the Little Person had expressed to the Social Worker a longing for more out of life saying, "I wish I could live on my own but my parents say a Little Person is incapable of living a normal life." When the Social Worker told her about me, she became very excited to meet me. Sadly though, we never got to meet. Fear. The parents were horrified their daughter would even THINK to entertain thoughts of leaving. They refused to let her ever see the Social Worker again too, convincing the Little Person she HAD to be protected by them. Though I never met her, I often think about her, and how paralyzed she was by the fear of her parents, and her own fear, that robbed her of having a life. Then I am damn grateful for my innate courage and determination always enabling me to rise above the terrible circumstances I grew up with, and the many physical ones, because you see, the sorrow of these let me attain far greater joy in the gift of LIVING and having a life. And oh, what a life it has been too!😃
I know I was born with the soul of a horse, because I never remember seeing my first one, yet from as early as I can remember, I have had a passion for horses far too deep for words. And my deepest passion has always been for wild horses, running free, living free, born free. From the time I could hold a crayon, I began drawing them. Never halters, bridles, or fences are ever in my equine art. I am quite sure there must be some deep symbolism here, for though my soaring spirit has never been diminished by being a Little Person, I still am trapped in this painful broken body which constantly gets ridiculed by the mean and ignorant out there, as happens to all Little People. My most successful, longest selling print is entitled, "Breaking Free." The drawing says it all, because this is what I have always done...lived a very soaring, daring, loving, and at times, damn fun journey regardless. I was blessed to break
free.🐎😃🐎
In earlier blogs I shared how when age seventeen, along with another artist the same age, we became at that time the two youngest artists ever represented by an art gallery. We were both written up in the newspaper, which displayed our work. Richard was an extraordinary wildlife artist, while I of course...the equine artist. The gallery also sponsored our first series of prints too. I had written this was my first time in the media for my art, briefly forgetting about the first time. My first claim to fame as an artist was at age ten. Each year in the fall was The Fire Prevention Poster Contest sponsored by the local fire department. The prize was a Stingray Bicycle for a boy and girl, and a feature in the local newspaper with the winners and their posters. By the way, I had been riding bikes since age six, so to have a brand new cool one would be something. However, my parents took one look at my poster and said I would never win. I almost didn't even submit it, after working so hard on it. Apparently the judges really liked it, because I won! My poster was very colorful of a matchstick with arms, legs, and face which was in flames. I had it seated on a pile of trash. He was holding up one hand, as in a warning, with the words, "I'm burning up because YOU didn't put me out!" The newspaper had a photo of me sitting on the bike, holding up the winning poster I almost didn't submit.🙂
free.🐎😃🐎
In earlier blogs I shared how when age seventeen, along with another artist the same age, we became at that time the two youngest artists ever represented by an art gallery. We were both written up in the newspaper, which displayed our work. Richard was an extraordinary wildlife artist, while I of course...the equine artist. The gallery also sponsored our first series of prints too. I had written this was my first time in the media for my art, briefly forgetting about the first time. My first claim to fame as an artist was at age ten. Each year in the fall was The Fire Prevention Poster Contest sponsored by the local fire department. The prize was a Stingray Bicycle for a boy and girl, and a feature in the local newspaper with the winners and their posters. By the way, I had been riding bikes since age six, so to have a brand new cool one would be something. However, my parents took one look at my poster and said I would never win. I almost didn't even submit it, after working so hard on it. Apparently the judges really liked it, because I won! My poster was very colorful of a matchstick with arms, legs, and face which was in flames. I had it seated on a pile of trash. He was holding up one hand, as in a warning, with the words, "I'm burning up because YOU didn't put me out!" The newspaper had a photo of me sitting on the bike, holding up the winning poster I almost didn't submit.🙂
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