Who hasn't heard that good things come in threes?  The Wise Men, French Hens, Musketeers, Blind Mice, Little Pigs, Billy Goats Gruff and any circus with rings know all about that.  So did all of Charles Dickens' ghosts, but perhaps Ebenezer wouldn't agree they were good? Nobody quotes "life and liberty" from the Declaration of Independence without also mentioning "the pursuit of happiness".  And, nobody - absolutely nobody - only plays "Rock, Paper".  I guess sometimes you hear about disasters, bad luck and celebrity deaths happening in threes as well.  But, seriously, who wants to focus on the negative when you already know what to accentuate?

I've had a very good 24 hours, and it's as simple as one, two, three.

One Good Thing - I've been in contact with a local school for mural 55.  For several months, we talked about beginning in April.  I always assumed it would be the first of the month.  Who ever expected the April we've had in Ohio with rain, cold, snow, tornadoes, flooding, more rain and certainly more snow?  But, plans for the project continue and it could not possibly be at a better school.  And, whenever Spring eventually arrives, the work will begin.

This will be a mural first for me.  The plan is to have every student in the school participate in the painting.  It's going to take a lot of help from volunteer mothers.  Not a problem at this school.  I sat down to brainstorm with the principal and three art teachers about the mural's theme.  They wanted student input, and I had a great suggestion.  Sometimes, that happens.  I suggested the students list events that happened in each grade level that they remembered most.  That kind of coaching prompted excellent suggestions I could use.  The mural will be divided into sections for each grade.  It's a perfect fit.  And, when I finally presented my vision of the mural, the principal said support for my design was off the charts.  Do you know how hard it is for a committee to agree on anything?  Yep, I'm very happy with "off the charts".  And, if the snow ever stops, it's going to be an amazing experience.
 
There was almost a bad thing to tell you about when a mural project unexpectedly collapsed, but  . . .

Two Good Things -  It took less than twenty-four hours for the universe to correct the situation.  Yep.  All it took was one little e-mail.  I have to admit I'm kind of addicted to e-mail.   I'm one of those people who turns on the computer almost as soon as my feet touch the floor in the morning.  And, my morning started when a local art teacher contacted me to see if I might be interested in painting with her students.  Could I supply more information? 

You know I did.

I'm very pleased when I hear from art teachers.  The last person with toes that I don't want to step on is the local art teacher.  I know they are talented, but usually too busy to do what I do.  I want to support them every way I can.  This art teacher wrote back before the day was over.  She said, "I know things need to move fairly quickly to make this work before school is out . . . So I need to ask, do you even have availability to work with us the week of May 7th?

Um, that would be a big yes!  And, I just couldn't be happier to paint in the location where the universe knew all along I was supposed to be.  Sometimes, it just all works out right.

Three Good Things - And, the day got better.  

It had been almost two years since I had any embassy project for my murals.  Just like everyone else pretty much everywhere, budgets have been tight.  Nobody seemed to have funding for a very amazing community experience with murals.  So, I sat in Ohio, networking among Buckeyes, painting murals in Columbus, drawing nearly thirty portraits from my travels, blogging, writing books about my travels in Liberia and Brasil, illustrating a folktale collection of Liberian stories and not using my passport.  But, all of that is about to change thanks to a late afternoon e-mail message.  I may not see their bobsledding team or meet Usain Bolt, but I'm guaranteed a good dose of Reggae music, a taste of Ting (not Tang) and maybe a sip of a Bob Marley Shot this summer in Jamaica thanks to an invitation by the US Embassy.  Hallelujah, man!

Now, as long as I'm looking for groups of three to write about, there is another absolutely warm and tropical group of threes that I'd really like to come my way.  I have already contacted two other embassies in the Caribbean who have expressed an interest in my muraling.  As long as I'm in the "neighborhood", perhaps they'll want to bring me on over to Barbados and Haiti?  If I must, I'm willing to stay longer in the Caribbean.  And, I could live with murals on THREE Caribbean islands if I just have to.

For sure, I don't want to get into a series of bad luck three situations that lead to things like prison or celebrity deaths.  My clip art might be all over the world, and students in every continent except Antarctica recognize my cartoons, but nobody knows my name.  I remain the most non-famous world-famous artist on the planet.  I don't think I have to worry about anything celebrity.  Just to be safe, I'll say a prayer that my guardian angel will protect me from malaria, pickpockets, bus wrecks, earthquakes, typhoons, rogues with knives, prison in Haiti and taxis without breaks.  It should be no problem since he's already done that for each of these in the past.   Why worry about threes when I appear to have nine lives?

I moved - kicking, screaming and certainly very stubborn - to my mother's hometown area when I was in high school.  Okay, I think the stubbornness is an honest genetic trait in the family tree, but I had more than enough to spare.  I didn't want to be uprooted from my friends to be planted in rural Ohio.  Much to my mother's despair, I never settled in and flourished the way she wanted me to.  At one point, she bought me a pin that said, "Bloom where you're planted".  I never bloomed.  I never felt planted.  And, I couldn't wait to leave Ohio.

I was gone for decades.

Although I never expected it to happen, and would have sworn I'd never do it, I moved back to Ohio.  It was to help care for my mother when she was sick with Alzheimer's.  I couldn't bring myself to move to her hometown.  I still hate that place, but I settled in Columbus.  I know it surprises most people, but the capital city of Ohio is the fourteenth largest city in the United States.  Seriously, who knew?  And now, I finally feel like I'm blooming a little in Ohio.  Mom would say, "Well, it's about time!"  I wish she were still around to see it.

If you follow my art, you know about my cartooning for teachers and my portraits from around the world.  Well, this year I've found myself in Ohio without any overseas travels - for quite a very long spell.  So long, in fact, that I have finally caught up with all of the international portraits on my "to draw" list.  I've had photos I wanted to draw from travels dating back at least twenty years.  There was never enough time to draw all of them.  Yes, I know, I kept traveling so much that the list kept growing instead of shrinking.  But, like I said, I've been in Ohio quite a long time since it's not been easy finding sponsorship for international mural projects at this present moment.  Last month I finished my final portrait . . . until I can book my next international project.  Then, hopefully, happily, I'll have many more portraits on my list.

Also, last month, I brought my African portfolio of portraits to the King Arts Complex in Columbus.  If anything happens with the African-American community in Columbus, this is the place.  It's incredible.  Actually, the purpose of the visit was to introduce them to the work of my Liberian friend Patrick, a prodigy I met while muraling with the U.S. embassy in Zwedru.  I wanted to see if they might want an exhibition of his work.  "Show and Tell" began with my art.  I wanted to hear the appropriate oohs and aahs as they saw my work and then show them what a real prodigy could do.  Patrick's work knocked their socks off.  I said, "Well, I hoped you'd like it.  I wanted to know if you'd be interested in an exhibition or if you can direct me where I need to take his work."

"The exhibition will be here," declared the cultural arts director.  Five words that made my day.  And, then there were a few more unexpected words that I didn't ask for, consider or even dream about.  The cultural arts director continued, "When we show Patrick's work, we would like to exhibit your art as well."  So, some time in the coming months, there's going to be a show at the King Arts Complex that I'm going to be so proud to be a part of.

I think a seed definitely took root and started to grow - in Ohio of all places - at that moment.

As I said, my list of portraits is truly completed at the moment, but an artist is an artist and will always be an artist.  So, I pulled out my nearly unused watercolor set.  I can count on three fingers the number of finished watercolor pieces I've made in my life.  But, I've started up painting a few local landmarks in and around Columbus.  I mean, when in Rome, you know what to do.  Unfortunately, I'm not in Rome right now, but I am finding some inspiration in Columbus.  Who knew?  Besides my mother, I mean.

I have kept busy in the past year, net-working to the best of my ability around the city, trying to get people interested in my murals.  It's been painfully slow, but some good things are starting to happen.  Among the people I met with was Tom Katzenmeyer, President and CEO of the Greater Columbus Arts Council.  (Why not aim big?)  He suggested I post my work on their Columbus Makes Art site.  Someone might discover me in their directory and I could get updates concerning future competitions.

Who knew Tom knew what he was talking about?

Also last month (a very good month, I must admit), I was contacted by some people interested in a mural project at a big Columbus mall.  (It happens to be the mall directly across the street from my home.)  And yes, they found me from the Columbus Makes Art website.  At first we discussed the possibility of a huge community mural on cloth, but they had no location to hang the finished project.  Then, the idea was tossed out to paint the huge flower pots scattered across the mall.  All in all, there are 250 of them.  I love that concept.  It could still be a community project like my murals.  We could paint six to ten pots at a time in an open location in the mall so all are free to observe and the brave can participate.  Possible themes in sets of ten could include famous masterpieces, farm animals, dinosaurs, state symbols and national landmarks.  The only limit to the list of possibilities is imagination!  No promises were made . . . yet.  But, if it takes off, I said I would be willing to go to other malls in their chain to help create art -- especially the one in Hawaii.

And, again last month, the Greater Columbus Arts Council announced two competitions for local artists.  I never knew about these in the past, perhaps because I never lingered in Ohio long enough to get their notices.  And, you never have a chance to win if you don't enter.  So, I did just that.  One competition is for displayed art in the Columbus' Arena District, across the street from the baseball park, along the wall at the A&R Music Bar.  I'd seen the four posters there before but had no idea how they got there.  Well, I can now tell you that the artists entered this annual competition.  Out of all the entries, ten are selected to be voted upon by the public.  Then, the top four get displayed for a year.  Basically, if you make the top ten, you almost have a fifty-fifty chance to win.  And, my portrait of an Aztec dancer is officially in the top ten.  Thanks to Google maps and Photoshop, I can already show you what "The Aztec Sun" looks like if it makes the next cut.  And, I think it should.  If you agree, go to this link and vote for me. 

As for the second contest, not so much luck . . . this year.

Still, it looks like there is evidence of some roots growing and a little blooming in Ohio.  But, truth be told, I'd kind of like it to be in a potted plant.  There's travel in my blood and my passport is always ready.  I don't think it surprises anyone when I say that I'd much rather live anywhere in Africa as well as southern Brazil or some place in the Spanish-speaking world.

I'm not really the kind of person that the entertainment industry appreciates.  I never watch programs like the Grammy Awards or the American Music Awards.  I never, never, recognize any of the music or so-called "artists" up for any awards.  And, on the rare occasions when I have watched these shows in the past, I didn't like what I heard or saw.  Wherever those radio stations that play the "music" are located on the dial, they never are found in my home.  I'm guessing that most people over 20-something might agree with me.  Certainly, 30-something.

I have more interest in the Golden Globe Awards and the Oscars, but not nearly enough to sit down and endure the ceremonies.  It's so much easier to check online the following morning.  And, just like a lot of the music awards, I don't recognize most of the movies that are on the program.  Who chooses those films?  . . . and why?

Anyway, one of the movies I saw this year was Coco.  And, I have to say, it was a delightful story that included so much Mexican culture that I so thoroughly enjoyed last year when I was in the Yucatan muraling.  The colors, the detail with the paper cut-outs, the music, the story . . . it was magical.  So, I was pleased when I learned that "Remember Me" by Miguel won the Oscar for best song.

But, I've changed my mind.

One of my favorite movies is probably one you've never seen.  The Holiday is always one of my holiday favorites.  So far, it's safe to say, I can never see it too many times.  At one point in the movie, Jude Law's character confesses that he's a weeper.  He doesn't just sniffle or cry.  When emotions take over, he weeps, uncontrolled.  And later on in the story, he proved he wasn't lying. 

If you struggle through Hallmark movies - or even their commercials - and watch This is US with your remote control in one hand and your tissues in the other, you are my kind of people.   I know what you're going through.  And, there is nothing you or I can do about it, is there?  Now, I know I am months behind most of the world, but I never saw The Greatest Showman (yet) and it wasn't until after the Oscar ceremony that I first heard "This Is Me".

It is why I changed my mind. 

This inspiring anthem, by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, is for anyone who has ever felt they didn't belong.  And, isn't that most of us?  Sometimes those around us can be so cruel and other times we can be our own worst critic.  Nobody gets through life without bruises and scars.  We all want and need to be loved.

If you think about it, not too many people were high school cheerleaders or varsity football stars.  Most of us were not members eating at the "in" table in the school cafeteria.  Unfortunately, we know there are bullies with sharp, cutting words.  And, I must say, that is a phenomenon that I don't understand.  I survived high school just fine, but I was a targeted nerd in middle school.  But, that was ages ago.  These days, the problem is so very magnified by social media.  I'm not sure why the Internet lets people think they are free to say whatever is on their mind without a filter.  My mama raised me better.

Too tall.  Too short.  Curly hair.  Straight hair.  Red hair (always my favorite).  Too dark.  Too light.  Too skinny.  Not skinny at all.  Wrong accent.  Different religion.  Freckles.  Too smart.  Class nerd.  Class clown.  Struggling student.  Daydreamer.  Like the wrong person.  Republican.  Democrat.  Absolutely no coordination.  Wrong side of the tracks.  Braces.  No braces.  Glasses.  Wrong haircut.  Acne.  Unique fashion statement.  No fashion statement.  I think most of us, at some time in our lives, did not fit in for some reason.  None of us are strangers to the dark.  We all come with broken parts.  But, those pieces make us who we are.  It took me a long time to realize that the people who love us do not care one bit about the things we think are so wrong about ourselves.  They just love us, even with our scars and bruises.  And, that is worth repeating.  They just love us.

I don't know much about Keala Settle, who sings "This Is Me", but I'm going to guess she was not a cheerleader, not a part of the "in" crowd.  When she sings, "I've learned to be ashamed of all my scars.  Run away, they say no one'll love you as you are", you know she's singing her story.  And, I've never seen anyone inhabit a song like this in my life.  She is a force of nature.  Now, you could watch the official video performed by all the unique characters that the circus had to offer - and it is good - but I recommend you watch the live performance as she and the cast tried to persuade their backers to approve the project.  You can tell, it is the story of everyone singing.  They all have had their problems, scars and bruises.  They just came through the experience with really good pipes and the ability to pour their hearts out into a song.  It is their testimony.  They are joyful.  They are glorious. 

This is not just my opinion.  I just learned there are people on YouTube who make reaction videos to music performances.  Who knew?  Not me.  These people come in all sizes, ages and colors with their own accents, scars and bruises.  There were also tears.  My personal favorite comment from one young girl in Sweden claimed, "I even ugly-crying!" as she watched the video.

In an interview, Keala said she didn't want to sing the song.  In her mind, it should have been a group effort.  She preferred to hide behind the music stand and away from the spotlight.  However, the director, Michael Gracey, knew it had to be sung by the bearded lady.  And even though she started out hidden behind the music stand, eventually she stepped out of the shadows and into the "center ring".  She belted out the song; her hair flowed; and then she took off her glasses and got serious.  You have to believe her when she sings:

...............Look out 'cause here I come (look out 'cause here I come).
...............And I'm marching on to the beat I drum (marching on, marching, marching on).
...............I'm not scared to be seen.
...............I make no apologies, this is me!

The lesson that is so difficult for most of us to learn was summed up by P.T. Barnum, the Greatest Showman, played by Hugh Jackman.  He claimed, "No one ever made a difference by being like everyone else."  When you finally learn this lesson, when you finally understand it deep in your heart, it is glorious.