Heroes.
Whenever I am asked to name my heroes, I find myself puzzled to name just a few because I am inspired by so many, and I am grateful for so many others along the way who were instrumental at critical times in my life.
I had no dramatically obvious heroes, like someone who saved me from a burning building.
My parents, no doubt, saved us kids from certain death countless times every day as we grew up. Hero parents? Absolutely. Thanks Mom! Thanks Dad!
But what about people whose inspiration plays in the back of your mind your whole life?
I think those folks are heroes, too. Don’t you?
Two of my heroes’ inspiring messages are playing out in my life as a septuagenarian, right now.
The inspiring hero I know the most about was forced to give up her favorite pastime, embroidery, when she was seventy-six because of advancing arthritis.
Inspired by her sister’s comment, that holding a paintbrush instead of a fine embroidery needle and thread would be easier, she took up painting at seventy-eight.
No lessons, no pencil drawings to practice perspective, and no knowledge of mixing colors.
She just used supplies at hand from the garden shed: some leftover house paint and scrap boards.
And she painted.
No grand scheme, just painting to pass the time; and to please herself, as she recreated scenes from her former farm life.
Fast forward:
She was invited to the White House by President Truman when she was eighty-nine.
When she was ninety-three, she appeared on the cover of TIME magazine.
Before she died in 1961 at age 101, she had painted over 1,500 works.
Years after her death, one of her works sold for $1.36 million.
A beautiful telling of the whole story of Grandma Moses can be FOUND HERE.
What has always made Grandma Moses’ inspiration real to me came as a gift from my hero mom when I was a freshman in college. She gave me Samuel Clement Moore’s, The Night Before Christmas, fully illustrated by Grandma Moses.
Not only was I holding a piece of Americana, but I was also holding the inspiration that – even as I was just starting to invent and discover who I was and what I’d become in college – I could continue to grow, expand, reinvent myself, and flourish well into my advanced years.
Age is not a limitation to development, discovery, or productivity.
I know less about my other similarly inspiring hero even though she was in my family.
One of my grandmother’s sisters, Iona, also became a painter very late in life. I am privileged to have one of her oil paintings in my home.
But the message is the same one from both of these late blooming artists: Do what you love, and self-discovery does not stop at any age.
Yes, I do dabble in artwork – mostly associated with hand-crafted and hand-painted cards.
But I started this blog when I was sixty-four, and I started writing and publishing books at sixty-five, sixty-nine, seventy-four, and seventy-five years of age.
Speaking to groups and giving online presentations to support family caregivers is my delight.
As Louise Hay – another inspiring hero of mine – always said, “The Moment of Power is NOW!”
Use your power – NOW – at ANY age!
In health –
Deidre