An Artist’s “Aha” Moment

In spring of 2021, Susan and I had our second shot for the Covid virus. It is my habit to carry envelopes of my various 4 x 6 art prints with me when I go to scheduled appointments, to gift to the staff, if permitted – and I feel so inclined. It brightens up their day and I get the word out about my art and poetry.

I had given such an envelope to the nurse after my first shot at the Santa Clara County Department of Environmental Health, just a month earlier. After receiving my shot at the shot station, I did not stay to watch the nurse open it. I seldom do.

The nurse for my second shot was a middle aged, pleasant looking, petite, free-spirited female with red hair and a loquacious personality. She was very professional and an excellent nurse. She said her name, but with the background noise, I could not hear well. I wish I had concentrated on her name.

After she gave me my shot, I asked her if it was permitted for me to give her an envelope of art. She said it was. I gave her an envelope of prints, thanked her and Sue and I left to go to the post-shot 15-minute waiting hall, before we could leave – to make sure we had no adverse reactions.

About 2 minutes before our 15-minute waiting period was up, I heard a voice of a person entering the post-shot waiting room (a cafeteria size room).

It was a woman, waving something in her hand, yelling, “Did you do these; did you do these?” and she looked around the room for someone – which ended up being me.

She spotted me and as she hurried toward me, she continued shouting, “Did you do these?” As she got close, I admitted that I had, indeed, created them - but was thinking to myself that I might have breached some nursing protocol.

The only thing I could think of was a quote from Scotty on Star Trek, “Aye, the haggis is in the fire for sure.” All the eyes in the room, about 50 to 70 people, were focused on me.

She approached me and in a lower voice, asked, “Did you do these; these are beautiful!” I said yes and admitted to the crime I thought I had committed. The moment became a blur. She held each of the three prints up in the light and said what she liked about each one. She said she was going to give them to her boyfriend, they were not married, but living together. She pointed out the one she thought he would like the best. (“Mister Lincoln/Before.”) She continued to point out the features of each print. The envelopes I gave out to her had 3 prints in them.

Based upon her positive reaction, I realized that I needed to give my new art-loving fan some different images to see, so I said, “Do you like them so well that you would like a second envelope?” 

“Oh, yes,” she replied. 

I went into my valise and pulled out a second envelop of 4 x 6 prints.  She ripped into the envelopes immediately and found a print of one of my palm-tree sketches. She immediately praised it, as the whole room continued to watch.  She said she loved palm trees.  Like a fisherman playing with a fish on a hook, I said, “Shall we look in my bag and see if there is another envelope with another palm tree?”  “Oh, yeah,” came the reply. (That is the first time I had ever given multiple, 3-print envelopes to one person. I normally like to spread the art around.)

God was enjoying the show and playing along so much that a miracle took place when we discovered another palm tree sketch print in the third (size 5 x 7) print envelope – one of my best “New Year’s Eve Palm.”  Had Covid not been a factor, it would have not surprised me to get a big kiss on the cheek. (An awkward event for sure and relieved it did not happen!).  She loved the palm tree art.

After I gave her the last envelope, I told her I had an art and poetry book coming out on Amazon.  I gave her my business card, but I am doubtful she remembered that bit of news.

She praised the art one more time and repeated she was going to show her boyfriend, thanked me and ran out of the room – back toward her shot station. For her to leave her work area and hunt me down was a significant show of appreciation - a fact not lost on me.

Half of the room slowly turned back to what they were previously doing, but the rest kept their eyes on Sue and me as we gathered out things and slowly exited the room. One or two ‘lookie loo’ persons appeared like they wanted to approach one of us and say something, but no one took any action.

I wish I would have paid attention closer attention to her name, as every star in a story deserves their name to be remembered.  I always include my card in the envelopes in the event someone might have further questions.  I half-expected some follow up email, but that did not occur. She had already said her thank yous.

As Sue and I walked to the car, I commented to Sue, “That’s what it’s all about! That is what poetry and art are supposed to do.  They people (who get the prints) may forget about the event in one or two days, but for that moment, they enjoy their own instant of kindness, appreciation, ecstasy and joy.” 

That was a precise example of an artist/poet’s “Aha” moment.  Many artists/writers/etc. go through their whole lives and never encounter their own affirmation “Aha” moment, where the gift of art or poetry, etc. pays off.  I was one of the lucky few.

Addendum

A month later, I was having an email chat with a former employee of mine.  We were talking about the Covid vaccine shots, and I sent her the story of my art exchange with our shot nurse.  Her email reply was, “That story brought tears to my eyes.  What a beautiful experience!  Congratulations on your publishing success.” ~ Emily

“Kaleidoscope #2”