AMERICA AS A WATERCOLOR

Back in the 1950s and ‘60s, when I was growing up, America was much like an oil painting; the colors were bright and distinctive, the lines clear and crisp; there was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. I grew up in that America. I knew my place. I accepted my role. I was comfortable

Since that time, the medium has changed. America has become much more like a masterful watercolor. Unlike the past’s ridged image of static, impervious oils, our colors have merged and blended; our lines have grown supple and soft; the light is bright, and the contours have softened through time.

For me, this has required an adjustment. I continue to adjust. Time is a masterful artist. Its futile to resist the brushstrokes of time. I accept this. I sit back and smell the roses and relax. I suggest you do likewise. SC