| As the third child in a family of four siblings, my emotional needs got a little lost in the shuffle. No reflection on my parents - it's just the way it was. This was the 50's and even those like my family living with modest means tried to live up to society's mandate to look successful, fit into society and keep any individual creativity under cover. I was not the cute little girl in ribbons and bows. I was a tomboy in jeans, I wanted a horse so badly I could taste it, and never fit in anywhere, not with family, not with friends. But I could draw and I knew I was good. I went into my creative place of power and drew horses, farms, beautiful girls riding horses, and I'd make up stories as I drew.
I had many talents that I was too shy and insecure to exhibit for fear of ridicule, and I'll just say in a few words that no one in my family took the time to seriously encourage me to pursue them. I have recently uncovered an underlying feeling of being locked in a glass case, seen but not heard or touched. It was only a few years ago I discovered where that feeling came from: sitting in the back seat of the car watching the rural California landscape whiz by and just wishing I could live there and be that girl riding that horse. But it was always a dream through the glass and I could never touch it or live it.
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