Norman Rockwell, Now and Then

When I was 11 or 12, my Mom decided it was time for me to have my own-room. It may have been my relentless begging or her fear that I would torture my 10 year old sister roommate to death, I don't remember. So my Mom and I chose a lime green gingham bedspread, found an exotic wicker headboard that she painted to match my cool second-hand trunk. I'm pretty sure the walls were adorned with at least one Michael Jackson poster, probably a horse picture or two and a Norman Rockwell print titled "Girl at the Mirror." 

The painting was originally featured on the cover of "The Saturday Evening Post" in March of 1954. My Mother would've been a junior in high school then and I wonder if it struck a chord with her at the time, causing her then to choose it for my room. I didn't know it was famous or even "art", but I immediately recognized the doubt in the girl's eyes. She wasn't a baby anymore, but not a woman either. She was looking at a movie magazine featuring Jane Russell, the same way I was trying to measure up to the blonde haired, blue eyed cover girls and swimsuit models that became Supermodels in the 70s. I wasn't tall enough to be a model and I would never have that California girl look. I thought the girl's reflection was beautiful but knew she still felt unsure, so that made it alright for me to feel the same somehow.

Museum lighting makes for bad iPics.

 Fast forward 38 years to Bentonville, Arkansas at the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art. My Mom mentioned the museum was hosting a traveling exhibit of Norman Rockwell's works and she really wished she could see it...so did I! I hoped my old friend would be there and I wanted to meet her in person. My Hub's best friend and his wife work at the museum and they arranged tickets and a personal tour for us. A million thanks to Aaron and Amy!

Aaron and Mr. Rock - Friends for Life

  Last weekend on a perfect spring day, Mr. Rock and I picked up my Mom and drove to Bentonville for the loveliest of visits. Lunch with friends, a ride to the museum and our own private docent - it was a custom-made memory for us all. Mom and I decided to take the audio tour of the exhibit while the boys went on their own side tour to catch up with each other.

Pink Dogwoods greeted us as we drove up to the museum.

"Yield" by Roxy Paine

 Mom was a quick learner as we used iPods hanging on lanyards around our necks to audio-guide us through each of the Norman Rockwell works. With headphones on our ears, we grinned and nodded to each other as we listened to the narration of each picture. When we finally got to the painting that I cared about the most, I was surprised as my eyes welled up. 

There was one minuscule sign that said "No photos please", but I couldn't help myself, there she was! Almost six decades after Norman Rockwell captured the self-doubt and angst that every little girl must feel, I still felt it. Maybe as women, we always have the "Girl at the Mirror" in us somewhere.

I still have the poster that my Mom bought for my first own-room and I plan to hang in it the grandgirls' guest room in my house. They need to see that other girls have the same feelings that they hide from the world. I'll remind them over and over that they are perfect, just the way they are. 

Thank you for your works of art, Norman Rockwell. Some were dismissed as too folksy while many others were cleverly disguised political statements, ahead of their time. I recognize now that you were a master of the human truth, even in a little girl's heart.

Love,
Rose Marie B

On a silly note...here's the "Nana Selfie" that Mom and I took on Mother's Day. She's such a trooper to put up with me!

Nana Ramblings, May 14, 2013

When she was born, even before her first cry, there was a sneeze. Delivered from Momma, laid up on her belly as we all looked on in wonder and suddenly we heard the sweetest, tiniest "achoo!"

After that first precious sneeze, my grandgirl took head colds, snoring, and mouth breathing to a whole new level. Mr. Rock calls her "Darth Presleigh" because of her raspy, menacing respiration. 

Do you know the ONLY thing that would make me get up @ 5am and sit next to my ex-husband in a waiting room all morning?

This punkin, sweetie pop, Pookie Jr, PDub...she's having surgery this morning to remove her adenoids, tonsils and have tubes put in her ears. Keep her in your thoughts today, would you? 

You might also offer up prayers of tolerance, patience, forgiveness, and kindness...those would be for me.

Love ya, mean it,

Nana Rose

A Run To Remember

April in Oklahoma is hauntingly unique

September in NYC understands.

Boston joined the club this year and we all cried together.

I met Roy and his wife Rita on April 19 this year, when they stopped in OKC on a cross country drive.



The burden to never forget weighs heavy but the gift of remembering

love, generosity and community makes the load feel lighter.

Survivor Tree Plaza at the Oklahoma City National Memorial and Museum

168 souls lost between 9:01 and 9:03.

18 Aprils later, those who honor them are 24,000 strong; all running to remember.

My town opens its arms with volunteers and cheerleaders along the route...smiles for 26.2 miles. The swift feet have run right into our hearts for 13 years now - this year proudly wearing symbolic Red Sox.

Sales of these socks from a local running store, Red Coyote, benefited a Boston Strong charitable fund.

Transporting runners to their relay starting lines, I felt the anticipation of the relay run and the satisfaction of completion. Soaking up the kindred spirit that comes from serving a greater good, together.

I was an OKC Ambassador on a relay team bus. This is Tom G, our driver and I love him.

A pristine sunrise gave way to a lovely spring day, not much different from that Wednesday back in 1995. But we are changed now, stronger after we pushed through for the pain. The runners remind us every year.

 

 

Love ya, mean it,

Rose Marie B