Category Archives: Moxie that Inspires

Made in Manhattan

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Every Monday morning, she would greet us, walking fast and out of breath, her soft, Gucci leather carry-on swinging from her shoulder, her long, perfect hair swaying back and forth, and her designer outfits perfectly accessorized. As she gracefully glided past us and flashed her “million-dollar” smile, we would all take a deep breath in unison and inhale her expensive perfume.

We were fresh out of high school, still carrying the baby fat that once made us cute, and now awkwardly settling in as college freshmen in New York City, hanging on to the promise that one day we would be career women.

It was rumored that she would fly in on her older boyfriend’s jet each Monday. She was an ex-Ford model (are you ever really an ex-Ford model?) who was hired to mold us into confident, well-dressed women of the world. I wondered if she realized what a challenge she had in front of her.

We were given an appointment time, and one by one, we would meet with her for a private consultation. We all nervously sat in the waiting room when the door burst open and Callie, a beautiful blonde student from Texas, dramatically announced to us that it was suggested she trade in her white mink coat, knee socks, and plaid skirts for a whole new business wardrobe. In her Southern drawl, she said she had to call her Daddy immediately to tell him that an allowance increase was necessary.

It was my turn. My stomach churned as I shut the door, smiled faintly, and sat across from her. She greeted me and started right in, suggesting makeup products that were soon to be introduced (what other insider information were former Ford models privy to?) and what styles and colors to wear. She showed me how to pull my long hair back into a bun and suggested I buy a braid that matched my hair color and wrap it around the bun for a more polished look. She stifled a laugh when she tactfully suggested some exercises for me to do, and I naively replied, “Do them now?” Yes, I was her style-starved puppet and would have dropped down and “given her 50” in a heartbeat.

One by one, we were all transfixed by her and happily settled into our new existences, leaving telltale signs all around us. To the dismay of the posh deli owner down the street, we bid farewell to his famous roast beef sandwiches for lunch and instead feasted on her favorite brand of yogurt. We all ate with demitasse spoons and cocktail forks (hers were sterling silver), her secret for eating more slowly. We stayed up late to re-polish our nails, so we were perfectly color coordinated the next day. We took extra time to dress and apply our makeup. We learned how to walk and carry ourselves properly. We were invited to attend social functions to practice the art of small talk and learn how to be a good listener. We were taught the social graces and the importance of manners.

It turned out that finishing school instruction was just as important as our formal education. When do you get the opportunity to stand there and be constructively critiqued from head to toe? Just as in the military, it was a form of breaking us down and rebuilding us from the bottom up, to make us the best we could be.

I still think about her. I wonder if she knew just how important she was to the lives of the young women she helped form. She taught us that if you look the part, you are the part. She transformed us from insecure, “plain Janes” to confident, chic women. She was an important role model in my life, and all these years later, after I carefully dress and check my nail polish, I raise my cocktail fork to her and say a silent “thank you” from the bottom of my style-conscious heart.

Author’s Note:
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Duende 

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A chimpanzee and flamenco dance lessons; that’s all I wanted when I was 12 years old. The chimp never materialized, but many years later the flamenco lessons did. It was my mom that found the classes through the Chicago Park District. At a cost of $25 for six sessions on a Saturday morning, it was hard to decline. We excitedly signed up together.

First things first; this called for some shopping. It went without saying that for us to do our best, we had to look the part. It took some time to choose just the right flamenco shoes, flared long skirt and fitted top. We tried them on over and over again and had fun twirling around and breaking them in.

The class was held in the guest house behind an old mansion that the Park District now owned. Arriving early, I had time to explore. The stone structure was now one big room, with only a narrow path and some boulders separating it from Lake Michigan. I didn’t realize then how inspiring it would be to dance while watching the water “dance” outside along with us. 

I must admit, I was a bit taken aback when Señora walked into the class that first day. She was older than I had expected with a soft body and a lined face. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her shoes looked as if they had accompanied her on many a dance floor. But, as she walked up to each of us, asked our name and gave us a welcome hug, I noticed her black eyes. They were piercing, bright, twinkling. There was something special about her. Then, without saying a word, she played a CD, started dancing and we were transfixed. At that moment, her body changed. Her posture was straight, her hand movements so elegant, her feet moving so quickly and precisely and her dark eyes sparkling. 

As she explained the class format, we focused on her every word. A combination of Spanish, Spanglish and English, it required concentration. We would be learning four Sevillanas. These are festival dances with simple choreography; easy to master for practice and training. Or were they? The class was made up of women, all ages, shapes and sizes. Initially, we all were so intent on clumping through the steps that we forgot to use any hand movements at all. I wondered how week after week Señora had the patience to watch this clumsy group assault the classic beauty of the art form that she had dedicated her life to

What the class lacked in structure, it made up for in entertainment value. Señora would stop abruptly at any time and start regaling us with a story from her colorful past. Sometimes, she’d carefully pass around a creased, yellowed article featuring her and her husband; a handsome young couple; carefree and excited for where life would lead them. From these snippets, we were able to piece together her life story. 

Growing up in Spain, she had learned flamenco at an early age and had excelled at it. She had caught the eye of a young man in her village, a bit older than she, who convinced her parents that she should join him and his musicians and go on tour. From then on, she lived and breathed flamenco. After performing all over Europe, they immigrated to the U.S. and danced in Las Vegas, getting to know all the big stars of the time and living large. Señora’s husband was not a businessman, so when his health deteriorated and he ultimately died, she was left with nothing but her memories. 

Each Saturday, we’d arrive early to class and stay late, hoping for another story or anecdote, so were disappointed when a stern, young woman was waiting for us this particular morning. She told us her mother was not well and she would be taking over the class. Based on her demeanor, we could tell that she wanted to be anywhere but there. We tried asking questions, but she stoically answered as little as possible. 

Nothing was the same. I gave up hope that I would ever speak to Señora again, until I noticed that the young woman was on her cellphone one day and I politely asked if it was Señora. If so, could I please speak with her? I was so happy to hear the combination of languages that I could now magically decipher. I asked about her health and told her how much she was missed. I asked if we could come visit her, but she said it wouldn’t be a good idea.

I didn’t know if I would ever get the chance to speak with her again and didn’t want to hang up. I was looking for something from this woman who sparkled, who had lived through the ups and downs of her life with such vivacity, such robustness. “What is your secret?,” I asked. She seemed to know exactly what I was referring to and responded with one word. “Duende,” she said softly. 

This Spanish term refers to a magical spirit and was traditionally used in flamenco music or other art forms to refer to the mystical or powerful force given off by a performer to draw in the audience. Nowadays, the word also refers to one’s unspoken charm or allure; that certain something that captivates. Yes, this one word encapsulated Señora and duende seemed to be the Latin version of moxie.

I thought of Señora often, especially Saturday mornings, and how I never wanted to forget her influence on me. She may very well have been my inspiration for starting this blog and a way of remembering that we need to package all we were born with into one powerful fireball and use it as the spark to live the very best life we can live. 

Author’s Note:
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Seven Secrets from a Super Ager 

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I’ll never tease JC again about her early “senior dinner times.” I recently discovered that some days her schedule is so jam packed, she fits in dining when she can. Between bible study, book club, Spanish classes, ukulele lessons and Rummikub tournaments, her schedule hardly fits into the little squares of her paper calendar! Fit, healthy, taking no medication and sometimes helping me remember things I’ve forgotten, this 94 ½ year old is simply amazing

According to AARP, the Super Aging Research Initiative is studying a small group of men and women across five U.S. cities. While medical advances have helped people live longer, it’s the aging brain that usually does not match up. Super agers are defined as someone over 80 with an exceptional memory – one at least as good as a person 20 to 30 years younger. They seem to have no trouble retrieving a word or remembering a name, processing new information and multitasking. 

As it turns out, it’s not just luck or good genes that make these seniors who they are. Their lifestyle plays a big part in helping to formulate their razor-sharp thinking and memory skills. Here are a few tips from my favorite super ager: 

A positive attitude
JC just wakes up happy! Wherever she’s lived, she says she likes to start her day by looking out the window and saying “Good morning, beautiful city!” 

If her mind wanders to the past, rather than allowing herself to think about how much she misses the family and friends she has lost over the years, she’ll turn her attention to something else and try not to dwell on it.

Avoid Stress
I call JC’s ability for not letting things get under her skin, her Scarlet O’Hara philosophy. In the movie “Gone with the Wind,” the conflicted hero, Scarlet O’Hara, would always say “Fiddle Dee Dee, I’ll just think about it tomorrow,” and go about her merry way.

Take care of yourself
JC is one of those rare people that actually practices moderation. She watches her alcohol intake, eats healthy and is always watchful of her weight, making sure she can fit into the new outfits she’s purchased on her many shopping excursions. 

She absolutely hates to be ill; even getting a cold annoys her! She makes sure she sees a doctor at the slightest feeling that something is just not right. 

Socialize
A social butterfly by nature, JC can start up a conversation with almost anyone and is still known to head out solo. After returning from a recent day trip, I asked her how she decided where to sit at lunch. “Easy,” she said. “I just look for the group that is talking and laughing.”

At the senior residence where she lives, she‘s always chock full of new field trip ideas and keeps a watchful eye on their restaurants’ menu variety as a newly elected member of the resident committee.

Spirituality
JC says maintaining religious rituals, curiously examining its aspects and relying on it for comfort in difficult times plays a big role in her life. 

Keep moving: exercise your body and brain
During pleasant weather, JC walks three times a day. She knows what her body can and can’t do and doesn’t like to be told otherwise. 

An avid reader, she’ll devour books and every type of magazine, from Cosmopolitan to Archeology and Smithsonian Magazines, always remembering to pepper her conversations with an interesting fact or anecdote. 

She’s always eager and excited to learn something new. 

Be Adaptable
While her life seems almost perfect, there is one downside: JC admits she sometimes doesn’t know where she fits in. 

Realizing that at her age, it is smart for her to live somewhere safe where she can enjoy the camaraderie of others, JC says that while the residents are lovely, most are not well and not able to venture out or provide much in the way of stimulating conversation. 

Deciding she is in the need of younger friends, she has joined a church group and has already signed up for some outings and activities.

That taken care of, she can now settle down to putting the finishing touches on some upcoming travels: her grandson’s wedding and a cruise to Norway and Iceland.

Featured in the Aug. 2021 issue of Austin Fit Magazine, JC joined four other Austin seniors in sharing how to “age like an Austinite” and reminded us “It’s important to have healthy relationships and friendships, but you also have to know how to be happy and make yourself happy. It’s a balance.”

Authors Note: 
The name JC (her initials) was given to my mom years ago, back when I hired her to be my interim secretary and did not feel comfortable to ask “Any messages, Mommy?”

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The Latin From Manhattan

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She had fibbed to her friends. She told them she was busy, but instead had decided she would venture out solo and go dancing. Guided by her independent spirit, she was determined to have a good time. Excitedly, she chose her outfit carefully. Making sure the padded shoulders of her dress were adjusted properly, the line down the back of each leg was straight as she put on her hose and any scuffs were cleaned off her ankle strap shoes, she then carefully removed the metal clip that crimped and waved her hair in the front ever so slightly.

She barreled down the stairs and called to her mother that she was leaving. As she closed the front door, she smirked when she heard her mother’s usual comment “Don’t forget to walk near the street and not too close to the buildings.” It was July 4, 1948, and a young girl could venture out alone, as long as she remembered to be cautious.

She changed into her dance shoes and then checked her walking shoes and purse into a cubby, receiving a ticket from the coat check girl. As always, she remembered to fold up some money and hide it in the secret compartment of her purse, just in case.

“Do you wan to dunce?” He wasn’t sure why he had faked a Spanish accent. He had entered the army with it and then returned home without it after World War II. What was he thinking? He smiled to think that maybe he was channeling Cèsar Romero, the famous actor that routinely played “Latin Lover” roles.

He had decided to go out alone that night, bored with heading to the same places with the same crowd. He was restless, always eager to try something new. All these thoughts sped through his mind, when just a few seconds later, the beautiful petite blonde, with the soft waves of her shoulder length hair framing her face, turned and with a lovely smile said “Yes!”

They lost count of how many dances they had danced in a row. Known as the most famous dance hall in the world, New York City’s Roseland Ballroom was at its capacity crowd that night, as almost 3000 people glided around the dance floor. According to an article from The New Yorker, “People accustomed to nightclub life often find the atmosphere slightly phantasmal. The ceiling is hung with dark-blue muslin studded with tiny electric bulbs that give a night-sky effect. The room is lit by neon lamps, graduating in shade from deep pink to lemon yellow. In their dim rays, knots of patrons drift to and from the dance floor with a curiously delicate air, fluorescing a bit as they go.”

The marquee featured the word “Roseland” in script, all aglow in white lights. Underneath, the simple caption, “Dance in air cooled comfort,” reminded those fortunate enough to be inside that tonight they would be enjoying a luxury not available in most homes. Finally and most important, tonight’s bands were displayed: Tommy Reynolds and his Orchestra along with Stella Lopez and Her Rumbas.

He bought her a drink, and they sipped slowly and chatted, he captivated by her sweet smile and her spunk and she, intrigued by his swagger and good looks. This time, he spoke without an accent, hoping she wouldn’t notice the change. She did… and years later, they would still laugh about that night.

He asked if he could escort her home, not knowing she lived in West New York, New Jersey. He didn’t care. Being a “city boy,” he didn’t realize she was taking him the long way home via bus, then ferry and then, up the hill to her house. She didn’t want the night to end.

Hours later, returning back to New York, he walked down the middle of the quiet street, humming and dreamily recounting how, when the clock struck midnight on the ferry, she had said it was officially her birthday and how he had asked if he could kiss her on the cheek. It was brazen of him, but he was happy that, once again, she had smiled and said “Yes!”

I smile every time I recount the story of how my parents met and I say “Yes!” – to being independent, to going it alone and to seeking out new adventures. And, when all else fails, to go dancing!

Post Script #1:
The original Roseland Ballroom, located in the theater district at Broadway and 51st Street was demolished in 1956. It was then resurrected on the site of a former indoor ice-skating rink on 52nd Street and finally closed in 2014 to make way for a 62-story luxury apartment building.

Post Script #2:
According to my parents, the photograph that accompanies this post graced the cover of a Latin magazine that was popular in Manhattan at the time. Their copies were lost over time and after intense research, the cover photograph could not be tracked down.

Author’s Note:
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Senior Living: Not For the Faint of Heart

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Photo JC Birthday

She’s double booked herself again. Tomorrow’s day trip was her idea, so she shouldn’t miss it, but her hair appointment got rescheduled for the same day. She promised The Knockouts – her boxing partners – she wouldn’t skip a class, but now water aerobics is at the same time.

When you’re 92 years young with a busy schedule, it’s hard to fit everything into a day – especially when Happy Hours start at 4 p.m.! My mom is a wonder and a force to be reckoned with. Moving into a new senior residence has given her even more pep and vitality, something we didn’t even think was possible.

According to the International Council on Active Aging, in 2020 the number of people age 60 years and over passed the 1 billion mark for the first time ever. That relates to one in every seven people with a higher average disposable income and more time to enjoy life than previous generations.

Seniors are trending as the fastest growing demographic and sparking excitement as marketers rush to cater to this lucrative untapped market. There was a time when old age meant declining into inactivity. Now, these new customers don’t let age hold them back. Young at heart and in good physical health, their zest for life leads them to look for challenging experiences and embrace life to the fullest.

Mom recently returned from a trip to New York, St. Pete Beach and Disneyworld with my sister. October is already on the calendar for a family trip to Puerto Rico. Now, she’s focused on 2023 travel plans. She’s been in contact with a younger friend, while also helping a new friend train to be free of her walker. My guess is she’s grooming her to be her next cruise partner.

Every year on her birthday, we convince her to wear her birthday outfit: white dress, silver jewelry and, of course, silver birthday crown. She’s always said “When you’ve got it, flaunt it” and now is definitely no time to stop!

As the population matures around us, seniors bring with them a newfound determination to practice Carpe Diem – Latin for “seize the day.” They’ve demonstrated that older is now synonymous with wiser, optimism can benefit you as a lifestyle choice, and seizing the day can be accomplished with style, grace and swagger.

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Ask…and You Just May Receive

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Photo Never Hurts to AskI I I can hear it now; the collective gasp from the Millennial population that live in JC’s* swanky building if they ever found out that JC has not had a rent increase since she moved there in 2016!

How, why, you ask? It involves just a five-word mantra that anyone can adopt:” It never hurts to ask!” Sure, you’re putting yourself “out there,” each time you take a chance and ask for something, but think of it as gambling with nothing to lose.

First, let’s concentrate on your demeanor and take a lesson from JC’s playbook. You need to dress for success. Looking your best will boost your confidence. Take a minute to take a deep breath and rationalize that your request is a fair and equitable one.

With a smile on your face and with your head tilted ever so slightly to either the left or right, look directly into the person’s eyes and ask your question. Then- and this is most important- do not say a word. At this point, silence is golden and is a game changer. It will seem like hours and you will want to blurt out a long explanation, but that minute or two will usually turn the awkward silence into a win for you.

This can also be adapted to phone conversations. Dress for success is still applicable. PJs just don’t give you the same performance level. Try standing up and smiling when you begin to speak and remember to stop talking.

Mr. Wiz,*a shining example of poise and self-assurance, has been preaching this refrain to me since we met. I’ve watched aghast as he negotiated a discount in a department store on a high-ticket item (I didn’t know that was even possible) and with a brief explanation, offered, what I thought to be, an insultingly low bid on our dream condo which was immediately accepted.

Shy at first, I began my training slowly:

  • In the grocery store, I asked if I could switch to an available brand of soup and still receive the sale price; it worked!

  • Now with a spring in my step, I walked into Dunkin’ Donuts and said since the gift card I had purchased for my boss had not been validated, I embarrassingly had to retrieve it and return to the store. The least they could do was treat Mr. Wiz and me to a complimentary breakfast. Five minutes later, we were enjoying their ham, egg and cheese sandwiches.

  • It was time to conquer the ultimate challenge. After some yoga deep breathing, I gathered myself together and called my credit card company. The concierge that had booked our high-speed train tickets had neglected to email the tickets to me at our hotel. We had no choice, but to go to the train station and pick them up, resulting in us missing out on a whole day of sightseeing. I felt we were justified to receive the expensive European train tickets at no charge; they agreed.

Practice makes perfect. With a little fortitude and a lot of moxie, you can change the course of your life, one simple question at a time. It never hurts to ask!

 

*Who’s who? See “Cast of Characters” on the “About” page.

Author’s Note:
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Here’s to Life; All 190 Years of it!

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Photo 190 Years

I would like to introduce you to two of my friends. At 95 years of age, they are each so full of energy and have such a zest for life, that I thought you would enjoy meeting them.

When she closes her eyes, she can still see herself singing with her sister, while her father accompanied them on the mandolin. She attributes her love of opera to her father, who would close his shoemaker business early on Saturdays to listen to the Metropolitan Opera on the radio.

After befriending the nuns at her local parish, she decided to enter the convent. She trained as a nurse and received her BSN and Masters in Nursing Administration. Tireless and fun loving, everyone knew her in the large hospital. She worked as a surgical nurse, pediatric nurse and in nursing administration, but her heart was always with the children.

Small in stature, but with a big personality, it is no wonder that when a travel agent friend of one of the nuns was looking for two sisters to accompany groups on pilgrimages to pray on the buses as they traveled from city to city, off she went to see the world.

With missions in Brooklyn, California, Chicago, Montreal and Seattle, she now makes her home in New York City where she lives with 24 other nuns in a senior residence that is near to her family. One of her favorite pastimes is sending weekly emails filled with jokes, interesting photos and stories to her large mailing list. Each time we speak on the phone I marvel at how she corrects me at least once, with details I had forgotten. She always makes me laugh.

He is one good storyteller. He had me on the edge of my seat as he regaled me with his naval adventures from World War II, recalling every detail as if it were yesterday. Stationed in Honolulu and Saipan, it was where he wasn’t sent that he still remembers all these years later. Drawing straws to see who would be headed to Iwo Jima was the only way his medical group could come to a decision. That he wasn’t chosen and lived to mourn his fellow corpsmen, who were all killed instantly as they approached the island, had a lasting effect on him.

After the war he attended college, proud of the 1937 Ford he had purchased that finally replaced his bicycle. He was content with his job as a high school teacher, but with a wife and a growing family, he couldn’t resist an offer from the Atomic Energy Commission that doubled his salary. Only when he remembered to use laymen’s terms was I able to follow his career from there to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission.

Still trim and standing tall and straight, he attributes his independence and positive attitude (he’s survived three wives and two of his four children) to his naval career and does not let the fact that he has some vision issues deter him. Lately, he’s been thinking of becoming a motivational speaker in schools and connecting with the children.

If 85 is the new 95 and 70 is the new 80, etc., etc., then do the math and follow my friends’ advice: get out there and make the best of the time you have!

 

Author’s Note:
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Sweet (and Savory) Dreams

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Photo Sweet and Savory Dreams Small

A little biscuit humor from Hot Box Biscuit Club

The story stuck in my head. Our new friends suggested that a group of us head over to Dahlia Café in Liberty Hill, Texas one Saturday night. Sitting out on the patio, drinking cold beer and listening to the live music, they told of how this restaurant came to be.

Whenever Debby Johnston passed the vacant building that once housed a florist shop, she’d wonder why someone hadn’t bought it, never thinking it would be her. One morning, she awoke and told her husband she had a dream that they bought it and became restauranteurs. The feeling was so strong that she convinced her husband to take a chance. As it turned out, the combination of their country cooking and a relaxed, downhome atmosphere was a success.

While in Fort Worth, Texas a few weeks ago, a visit to Taco Heads for lunch brought that story back to mind. Back home and not sure where her corporate background would lead her, it was a dream one night that motivated Sarah Castillo to develop the perfect tacqueria that would inspire a cult following.

Two jobs and two years later, she had saved enough to buy not just a food truck, but a unique custom trailer. Her mother provided the recipes and a friend introduced her to area bar owners, who agreed on the need for late night dining. Six years later, had her Uber driver not struck up a conversation with her, he may not have become her business partner and their two restaurants (with a third on the drawing board) may not have come to fruition.

With visions of tacos still dancing in my head from this incredible story, brunch the next day at Hot Box Biscuit Club had me taken aback. After dreaming about biscuits one night, you can guess what Sarah Houten had to do.

A graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, the prestigious cooking school, she set out to create the perfect biscuit, then called her old friend, Matt Mobley. They had met years ago when he taught at Le Cordon Blue, the elite cooking school in Dallas, and she knew he was the one that could provide just the right accompaniments to take her biscuits to the next level. They collaborated on their favorite Southern recipes and soon their food truck gave way to a restaurant with lines out the door.

From pipe dream to reality; these women entrepreneurs were hungry to find their path in life. They listened to their inner voice, put their trust in their gut feeling and let intuition guide them. They dared to dream, but kept their eyes open and followed their destiny.

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Cowgirl Fascination: Annie Oakley

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Photo Annie Oakley 1

Just under the wire, on the last day of 2019, I was able to squeeze in my goal of visiting the National Cowgirl Museum and Hall of Fame in Fort Worth, Texas. There, I was introduced to Annie Oakley.

Born Phoebe Ann Moses in Ohio in 1860, Oakley’s father died when she was 6-years old. She was sent to live at the city poor house, but returned home as a teenager. She helped feed her family and eventually paid off their farm’s mortgage with her hunting skills, selling the excess to a local hotelier. When the hotelier set up a shooting contest between the fifteen-year old, five-foot tall Oakley and well-known marksman, Frank Butler, Oakley won, scoring 25 out of 25 shots. Smitten with her moxie, the two courted and eventually married, traveling together as a shooting act. When Butler realized it was Oakley the crowds wanted to see, he took a step back and became her manager. It is said the stage name Oakley came from the Cincinnati neighborhood they lived in.

They soon set their sights on becoming a part of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. William F. Cody was a soldier, hunter and showman who turned his real life adventures into the first outdoor western show. Known for his foresight and business acumen, he was soon celebrated as one of the most famous Americans in the world. His use of press agents and poster advertising was innovative for the times. Realizing how essential Indians were to the shows, he paid them the same wages as the other performers. Their families traveled along with them and were encouraged to retain their language and rituals.

In 1885, Oakley auditioned and was hired on the spot. That year, she performed in 40 cities and then made a grand three year tour of Europe. In 1893 alone, the show performed for 6 million people and made a profit of $1 million. Patrons were fascinated with the ingenuity and efficiency behind the scenes as they were the show itself. Every night, the cast and staff of over 500 plus horses and buffaloes (along with grandstands and acres of canvas cover for the 20 thousand ticket holders) moved to the next town. Depending on the destination, they were housed in either walled tents or railroad sleeping cars. Three hot meals a day were served and their entourage even included its own fire department.

In a male dominated profession, Oakley was able to retain her femininity and become the most famous sharp shooter in American history. She was known for her ability to hit small size objects, such as a dime at 90 feet or the ash from a cigarette, once held in the lips of the Crown Prince of Germany. She headlined with the show for almost 20 years, retiring after a car accident. She still kept shooting even with the brace she wore due to a fractured hip and ankle, giving exhibitions, holding charity events and teaching women to shoot. The celebrity cowgirl died at age 66 and it is said that Frank died of a broken heart a few weeks later.

Photo Annie Oakley 2

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Heide Pitre: The Wink of an Artist’s Eye

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Photo Pitre One Green Dot

“One Green Dot”: If you look closely, you’ll see it on her shirt

When Heidi Pitre’s Uncle Willy Willy Lump Lump suggested she draw freehand rather than trace pictures from the cover of a Charlie Brown book, the artist had no idea that his 5-year-old niece had such talent. All these years later, she can’t help but smile and wonder what he would think of her painting “One Green Dot” currently appearing on billboards across Austin. A winner of the latest Austin Art Boards Competition, her latest collection “Southern Peculiar” colorfully depicts heartwarming scenes of the South, presented with a lighthearted twist.

Pitre calls herself a narrative painter. She invents a story, creates a scene and then entices you to scrutinize it until you find your own ending. Her style is bold and realistic without being surreal, captivating you into taking yet another look to see if there was something you might have missed.

There’s no place better than New Orleans for a budding artist to grow up. Its eclectic music, cuisine, architecture and celebrations combined with the city’s freewheeling, creative spirit reassured her that a little bit of quirkiness and eccentricity was always welcome. At the University of New Orleans, she changed her major to Fine Arts, not sure how she would make a living, but determined to do so.

Once her daughters were on their own, Pitre decided it was finally time to dedicate herself to taking her career a step further. Utilizing her organizational skills and business acumen, she set out to learn the art business, established goals and never looked back. When fellow artists touted Austin for its opportunities, camaraderie and generous spirit, she packed up her moxie and made it her home.

While attending an art residency, her love of libraries and reading led her to inquire whether she could remove the old library cards from their books. Given the OK, her stack grew until one day she began to sketch artwork on the card. As Pitre explains “Each repurposed card is unique, with the artwork added to represent a pivotal moment or theme from the book or a play on words of the title. Retired from their first career, these once forgotten pieces of paper have started new lives as ambassadors for the books they once lived in” Now these new cards, complete with artwork, live around the world with private collectors or hang in galleries and exhibitions. Reproducing them has made them available to a wider audience and a book entitled “A Permanent Record” recounts their story.

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Always in search of the bizarre, she had no choice but to purchase some vintage flash cards she came across one day. In her newest collection, she sketches on the cards, her play on words mingling childhood innocence with adult humor.

Heidi Pitre has successfully honed her curiosity, sense of humor and artistic talents into a one- woman, avant-garde show of everything that will tickle you, inspire you and remind you to celebrate the long forgotten. See what she’s up to at heidipitre.com.

 

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