Author of The Starlight Series

The second child of my second child, Stephanie Lynette Carpenter was born April 1, 1992.  While she is anticipating her eighteenth birthday in two days, I mark the milestone with swallowed tears.  Not tears of sadness for her, mind you, but for me.  I can be a selfish sort at times.  I know it is in the natural order of things, but I also know that she is within months of beginning a new phase of her life.  I have three older grandchildren: Nick, Scott (Stephanie’s older brother), and Jessica, whom I featured in this blog on January 28th.   Stephanie is the youngest of the four, the last grandchild, the one I refer to as icing on the cake.

Stephanie has many names: Steph, Steffi, Carp, Stepher, Stepherino, you get the drift.  I have heard my son refer to her as “Sis,” a name my father used for me.  I found it strange that my son uses that term, for not once did I call my daughter “Sis.”  I didn’t like it.  I know it is an endearing term, but I felt diminished by it for some reason.  I like “Stephanie,” a name with strength and character, as well as femininity.   It will serve her well.

Stephanie’s birthdate was chosen by her mother, who weighed the probability of teasing of her child’s having an April 1st birthday against the distinct possibility of a sudden onset of labor.  She had already undergone a C-section, following a long, harrowing labor when her son was born; and she knew the second child would be delivered by the same process.  So we have an April 1st harbinger of Spring every year in Stephanie.

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Unique: being the only one; being without a like or equal; distinctively characteristic; peculiar; unusual.

These phrases are only part of Webster’s definitions of the word. If qualifying terms, such as “somewhat,” “rather,” “a bit,” etcetera, are used with it, they negate the very meaning.  A thing, person or situation is either unique, or it is not.

We admire artists, musicians, designers, architects, physicians, researchers and writers who are different from the norm, who try new techniques and methods.  However, being imperfect creatures, we tend to criticize or belittle those who look at the possibilities beyond the conventional.  Adulation and recognition often come many years after a unique, creative individual has followed his/her own dreams, sometimes dying in their attempts.

I like to paint…ummm…I LOVE to paint!  I have never fooled myself into thinking that I have an unusual talent with oils, brushes and canvas.  There are many contempory artists whose work I admire: Robert Woods, Andrew Wyeth, James Wyeth, Thomas Kinkade, Lena Liu, to name a few.   I think that the old masters, from hundreds of years ago, who mixed their own paints and built their own canvases, left a legacy that cannot be duplicated. I have never attempted to paint a subject in their style.

I have, however, undertaken some landscapes in the manner of Kinkade, with the soft skies, lamp-lit windows and dreamy ambiance of an era goneby. I like the results.  While the paintings are mine, they are not unique in style or composition.  They are, in essence, copies of another’s special creativity.  I can live with that, since I’m painting for my own enjoyment.

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