I’m no artist, but I admire those who are


For decades I have lamented over the fact that I have no artistic ability. That sense of incompetence came to light eons ago when our daughter asked me to  draw the outline of a donkey for the traditional birthday game of pin the tail on the donkey.

Her friends thought it was unique to pin the tail on that funny-looking pig. They didn’t realize the creativity or determination that went into that pig. For the model I used the simplistic three-circled pig from  her Fisher Price Farm Set.

Ever since, I’ve been searching for a glimmer of artistic ability. I’ve tried dried weed arrangements, but that brought the noxious weed board to my door. They condemned the arrangement and burned it.

My mother was crafty. One Thanksgiving she took the breast bone of a turkey, spray painted it gold and used it as a miniature sleigh for her Christmas table. I tried the idea the next Christmas, but the dog took it outdoors and buried it.

I’ve tried knitting but have trouble with the gauge and can’t keep track of where I’ve been, where I’m going, and where I am. I did knit a sweater for our daughter when she was 2. She wore it until she was 13. My other half is the recipient of my second and last knitting project. He wore that sweater faithfully until he tripped over the sleeve and nearly fell down a flight of stairs.

I’ve tried making curtsy decorations out of egg cartons. But when I get through cutting, pasting, decorating, I have something that looks like it was laid by an overwrought hen.

So what is left? I was reared on the children’s tale of “The Little Engine that Could.”  “I think I can, I think I can” led me to believe that I, too, could. The years have passed and I’ve come to realize that with all the artistic ability that is out there, someone needs to be around to appreciate it.

That is where I come in.


Joyce Ore

Joyce Ore writes delightful stories about life with a dose of humor and sprinkle of nostalgia. Her column appears Saturday in the Tribune.

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