On the 4th of June 1879, British illustrator and designer Mabel Lucie Attwell was born in Mile End, London. At the turn of the century, her drawings of sentimentalized rotund cuddly infants, started appearing in various media such as: cards, calendars, nursery equipment, pictures, crockery and china ware, dolls, postcards, advertisements, posters, books and figurines. […]
On drawing food as an art — and an emotional process.
What a horrible and sad, sad, sad insanity…
My thoughts and prayers continue to be with the people of Nice, France, and the world community.
When I heard the news I was shocked, so shocked. Overwhelmed.
I have been seeing photos on social media where people have written “Pray for Nice” on sheets of paper. While my brain understands the last word in the phrase is the name of the city in France, my heart hopes, and believes, praying for nice is a good idea, too. If we can’t get along in this world right now, why can’t we be nice to each other? Why is murder, in any way, shape, or form, an acceptable means of protest (for any real or imagined issue)?
It isn’t. So, let’s be nice to each other even if we disagree.
The day after the horror in Nice, I was driving through an area of Pennsylvania that is mostly farm land. Lovely day, lots of sunshine, and I was not in a hurry to get anywhere although I had errands to run.
Good thing, too, because during the drive, along a stretch of road not near any lake or body of water I could see, out of the corner of my right eye I saw a flash of gray a few inches from the road surface move. Thinking it was a cat or some other small creature trying to cross the busy road, I stopped. Thankfully, the people behind me stopped, too!
Quickly the low slung flash of gray resolved into the image of a Mother Duck being followed closely by, perhaps, seven or eight, ducklings. I was enchanted by the sight, but then realized the darlings were in danger from the SUV charging down the other side of the road.
No! No! Fearing the noise of my horn would startled the other driver too much, I banged on the inside of my car’s windshield and waved at him, hoping the motion would catch the driver’s attention.
Sure enough. Too slowly for me, but finally the driver slowed and stopped only a few inches from the fowl line (oh, for pun’s sake!). The little family made it safely across the road, and all the humans in their tons of metal went their separate ways, including me.
About ten feet down the road, I burst into tears.
Now, be assured, I do not burst into tears often, but suddenly I was aware of how much I wanted those little animals who were just trying to make their way in our crazy world to be able to make it safely across the little country road. Pulling off to dry my eyes and think a but, I realized the ducks on the move had served as proxy for me to process, at least a bit, of the horror of the day before. They had helped me to see what I was feeling inside.
Why can’t we all just be nice–to each other and all others?