I don't think I ever took an art class at BCC--would it have been a requirement? In fact, the closest I've ever come were "shop" classes like wood and metal working, or ceramics, in junior high school. Everything I made turned out to be an ashtray.
But, as of this afternoon, I have this photo on display in the Currier Museum of Art in Manchester. Not exactly keeping up with Joanie--it's hanging in a below-ground exhibit area (I hate to call it a basement), and only for the duration of the Veterans' Writing and Photography presentations (which really means just for a couple of days). And I had to pay to have it framed! But what the hell, you take what recognition you can.
Tomorrow I'll be presenting the story that the photo accompanies, The Little Girl at my Door, in public for the first time. I posted an early version of it here a couple of months ago.
Mr. Bryant was my high school mentor. In my yearbook, in a scrawl I have to use my phone magnifying feature to read, he wrote, "I should give you a penetrating character analysis in two lines. Presumed cynic, but the veneer occasionally shows its cracks. Recognizing you as a starry eyed believer in the goodness of man, if not the perfectability of him. Keep up the front." He understood me well.
I've been imagining trying to explain to him an era in which a foreign government could interfere in an American election trying to effect its outcome, and in which numerous high government officials were being indicted for and/or pleading guilty to serious crimes. This might not have shocked him. He would, I think, have been shocked, or simply disbelieving, if told that some citizens responded to these facts with, "Whatever."