Growing up in Germany, my father was stationed there as head of Defense Intelligence for Europe, and we necessarily tagged along. It was much fun! Living off base and on, we had the good fortune of some rather unique housing reminiscent of something from a James Bond novel replete with hidden passageways, underground tunnels, a blown up maids quarters in the back yard, and a bank vault for Hitler’s cache.
Traveling throughout Europe, sometimes by private train, sometimes by car, we became enchanted with old world Italy, Holland, Austria, Luxembourg and of course, the small cobble towns with which Germany was replete.
Stationed back to the States, none of us really wanted to leave, but we, necessarily, tagged along. The Pentagon was my father’s destination, Virginia was ours and I found myself in somewhat of a culture shock.
At the tender age of sixteen my mother thought Putney Work Farm might quell my rebel side. Fortunately, my father intervened and instead sent me to a finishing school in Paris where I took classes in dance, music, cooking and art. Dance immediately charmed my heart and became my passion. Returning home I quickly rose in the ranks and joined a small company in DC wherein we performed in the tri-state region while I continued my studies and taught classes.
By 21, if I was going to pursue dance fully, New York was the only option. I declined. So my father sent me to college where I graduated with a degree in Finance and Accounting. Lured to Colorado’s Penny Stock Market boom, I obtained my Series 7 license and became a broker. I was one of three women in the company.
The market crashed and I shifted to working as controller for a local land developer with projects in Denver as well as various mountain resort areas. Still – I danced. The real estate market crashed and in the midst I acquired by trade, a daycare center, which would become my source of income for the next fifteen years.
My boss and I married, left Colorado, and moved to San Francisco where I bought a 40’ sailboat. Taking a sabbatical, we sailed throughout the Bay, the Delta, down to Santa Barbara, LA, San Diego and throughout the Channel Islands. Many stories; some perilous, some romantic, some comedic. Still – I danced.
Selling the boat after 2 years we built a home in El Granada. Fog horns. Sandy Beaches. Eucalyptus trees. It was divine! It was there I bore No. 1 Son.
The market began to waver and so we felt inclined to return to Colorado. Packing our bags and son, we left.
We built a home I designed in the foothills, I bore two more sons and fortunately the daycare still thrived. Alas dance – she left.
As did my husband.
Supporting three young children, the daycare managed to thrive until my third son reached first grade – a blessing! And then collapsed. I found jobs in the land development arena again as Comptroller and raised my boys.
Fourteen years passed and I met my second husband, a Christian and a Financial Planner. Enamored, I followed his ways. Working in his office as Finance Director I created unique wealth plans as well as a weekly economic commentary and a monthly newsletter.
One very memorable day, upon leaving the church service where we attended I met a sculptor in the narthex and was intrigued. I told him I wanted to learn how to sculpt in bronze having no experience whatsoever. He laughed and dismissively told me to go to school. Pressing, I told him I wanted him to teach me. Ultimately, he acquiesced whereupon I took solo classes three days a week, 4 hours a day for one year. At the end of the year he told me I was – ready.
I had once again found a gift, a passion.
Immersed, I sculpted. I created. Prolific and dedicated, my talent shined!
Alas, the art world had just begun to crumble – and today has yet to truly recover. It is as though art no longer possesses value. An odd apparition.
Within those years I began to ravishly read politics. My sons gave me insights. And intrigued, I created a blog. The blog gained momentum, Truth being the quest, fakery – an obsession.
And while my bronze have faded, I create, I write, and the world – shifts on its axis once again.
My Christian husband – well, he apparently was a fraud, a wolf in disguise who found Christianity a convenient niche market. Alas he managed to parlay a multitude of betrayals before the mask began to shred. Absconding with many valuables and divesting of many more, he donned a new mask.
And yet, grounded in life, faith, children, and my passions, I survived, thrived, and emerged a butterfly!
And a new chapter is beginning that interestingly takes me full circle to the roots of my upbringing as I dance with a former Green Beret… we shall see!