So decades ago, when my very young daughter’s best friend told me that her father taught art at adult education, I enthusiastically signed up for her class. Why not improve my daily doodles?

But when I arrived to sign up for his class, I discovered that he was teaching “oils.” Oils? How can I participate in oils when I have no idea how to draw? Don Little, my future teacher, assured me that I could learn both at the same time in his class. I doubted it, but yet, I was already there, so I signed with little hope for my artistic future.

And so began a whole new era of my life. I was hooked. I loved it and even asked my good friend, Jeanine, to join me, along with another friend named Marge. The three of us had so much fun in our adult education classes that a classmate named Dorothy asked if she could join us. We took her in happily, so now we were a foursome taking art classes when they were in session and continuing our creative paintings at each other’s homes at the end of the school term.

We walked into art shows with two of us taking turns sitting and selling our respective artworks, rejoicing in every sale, whether it was ours or one of our friends. To clarify how long it was, we walked into the Allentown Art Festival when a few people were walking around and maybe buying a painting. Minutes would pass before another would pass. Customers were rare in these first days of the festival.

Oh, but what fun we had. I remember painting a white peacock on a black velvet canvas. Dorothy, who never hesitated to tell the truth, told me it was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Need I mention, this was the first painting sold? As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. We all had a good laugh about it.

We were into real life landscapes and art. But one evening we all agreed that, just for fun, we would each attempt a modern art painting. I dabbed a multitude of colors on my canvas, none of which made sense. And then, to top it all off, I took my friend’s cigarette, sprinkled some raw tobacco on the wet paint, and… yes, it was the first one sold.

A few years later, my husband was transferred because of his job at Motorola, and I had to leave behind my artist friends. I was sure that I would continue my hobby in New Jersey, but unfortunately I discovered that it was not the “art field” that held me captive, it was the pleasure I had. doing it with my friends. It quickly lost its luster, and I reluctantly pulled out my oils and brushes and moved on to other things, like performing in our local theater, and later writing.

Just recently I found a painting I had done during those fun times and asked my Clarence Senior Center if they would like to hang it in the center piece. The director said yes, and now I enjoy seeing it during the five days a week that I attend.