I’m not a groupie sort of person. I never was. I felt out of place in the Brownies. Team sports usually left me bored. Group dynamics annoy me in their inefficiencies. All of that time wasted trying to please everyone. So, it was very uncharacteristic of me to join the art club in high school in my senior year.
My art teachers talked me into it, one with a smooth carrot topped bob, about 5 foot nothing and a ball of fire, the other big and roly-poly, with a huge interest in her students. It was a new club and they thought I had talent, so they encouraged me to join. So, I joined. And it was great. Other artistic souls working on projects together.
We had a contest to design a logo for the group. My design won. A stylized rose bud that worked well in color or black and white.
All of the display cabinets in the school needed to be decorated. I was chosen along with an incredibly free-living type to do the display in the front entrance. (He didn’t where underwear.) We created a mini winter wonderland in that glassed in world: wisps and webs of gossamer ice and snow. It received raves.
My teachers awarded me the school’s annual art award, which I received in surprised and stunned ecstasy at graduation. This one semester, this one aspect of my high school career lives on as a heady experience.