We come from a family with art in our blood. None of us can avoid it, just as we can’t avoid those negative genetic traits like illness and disease. My mother Dena drew in charcoal, and did watercolor (see below) - delicate pictures of ladies with tiny, intricate hands, true things of beauty. My father was a wonderful tenor singer. My grandfather was a professional musician who played the mandolin. Everyone sings, draws, paints or is a musician of some sort. 

When I was a little girl of about seven years I loved to draw with pencil. My father bought me charcoals of my own. I would often show my father the finished product, hopeful for some praise. “Daddy, do you like it?” He would always be reaffirming and positive – he had such a gentle soul. One day I asked, “Daddy, do you think they’re good enough to sell?” As was his wont, he said yes. What he didn’t know was he was building an entrepreneur. So I took my drawings and sold them all around the neighborhood. 

When my father came home for dinner that night I couldn’t wait to tell him what I did. I proudly dropped the money (loose change) on the table and announced my entrepreneurial debut. He was shocked and somewhat appalled, thinking I had taken advantage of my kindly neighbors. He made me go back to each house and return the money. 

It slowed me down only a little. I went on to study music and become a professional musician and singer; then began painting in oils; now to be a photographer. And I think my father is smiling in heaven to think that the same little girl running around the neighborhood with her drawings is actually in her own gallery. I think this is always where I was meant to be and so I say, “Thank you, Dad.”