THE TAKEN PATH

My senior year almost over, the year I waited for so long had disappeared in a flash.  I realized that my life was changing dramatically – I wasn’t a kid anymore.  Life was not going to be about playing anymore, it was about choices. Dad said the time had come to stop “red-assing”!  I always wondered what that meant.  (I know many years later, he was actually thinking about his life not mine…possibly he should have done things differently.  Maybe me too.

The graduation day as we readied for the ceremony he said, “Come here a moment I have your graduation present.”  He took me to our front picture window, put his hand on my shoulder (a very rare action for him) and looked me in the eye, “There my son is my gift to you, the whole wide world.  Now go get it.”  I thought at that moment - this was corny – but today it was one of the most profound statement I have ever heard.  He was right.  The world was right there and it was time I had started on my way and hadn’t even been handed my diploma yet. 

It all really started in my sophomore year after turning in my form for next year’s classes to the guidance office.  Soon after Mr. Vangilder (who we all called Van-glider) called me out of class and to his office.

“Cal if your take the art elective instead of advanced college prep elective you will never get into a “good” college.  You need to take calculus, trig, physics…algebra 3 & 4…”  I interrupted, “I guess I’ll have to go to a “bad” college then”.    “Hummm,” was his only response as it dismissed me.  And little did I know that my glib remark would alter my entire future. VanGilder, like my friends,  folks and teachers, just didn’t think “art” could be my career.  Frankly, I too wasn’t so sure I was talented enough either to make a living as an artist.  So to placate I said I was going to study industrial design which sounded a more legitimate endeavor.   

But I was always “different” as my mom would say.  While my friends listened to Rock n Roll I was listening to Wagner.  To make matters worse I was the only varsity lineman who wrote poetry. (Two of my poems, submitted by my English teacher were printed in the National Poetry Society’s National High School Collection – and to my chargin,  when the school received word of literary honor Principle Mike read them over the PA during the morning announcements and my football buddies quoted lines and heckled me for months. So, for the next two years I spend drawing bottles and fruit and creating grotesque things out of clay in the chalk dusty Art Room.  I can still smell that unique odor of paste and poster paint.   

But I hated math.  I could never really get it – well I chose not to get it. 

Perhaps if just one teacher had told me what algebra was for I might have done better.  And math word questions drove me mad more than trying to figure what a plus b equaled.  “A train is leaving Chicago traveling at 82 mph to New York make no stops for 1245 miles…what time do they arrive…ya da ya.  My answer for the  quiz problem – Why not take a plane and get there much faster!”  This earned me “F” that day and a dirty look from Mr. Riley my coach and albegra II torture master.

And so, the days dwindled down to a precious few…as the song said.  Where could I go with only algebra II in my record?   So after class I talked to my art teacher and asked,  “…do you think I have the talent to be accepted to a art school…?  She immediately said, “Of course you do, you are one of my best artists!”  And that did it.  alea iacta est (I did better in Latin II for those who didn’t take Latin, the dead language = the die is cast)

I applied to one of the best art schools in the country, The Philadelphia Museum College of Art. Hope springs eternal.  Mrs. P helped me assemble my “portfolios” of required examples of work and I sent them with the application to this hallowed institution.

And then the waiting began. Every day when I came home from baseball practice my mom would greet me with, “Not today.”   I started to think that perhaps I wasn’t as good as I thought when compared to the many other serious art applicants.  And then one day mom handed me THE letter with a big smile.  I was not only in, but I was offered their one and only yearly National Scholar Tuition Grant.

 I was going to art school! 

However, after the glow faded I realized that this was also a scary proposition – the pressure was on for me to be as good as the scholarship predicted.  So once again, I asked Mrs. P for advice.  She told me something that would last my entire adult life and help me make many future decisions.  “Calvin, the choice is this, do you want to be a big fish in a small pond…or a small fish in a very big pond?  That’s what you need to decide.” 

This advice hit the nail on the head. 

After working all summer, in my new madras shirt and chinos I took the bus for my first day of big time art study at the famed Philadelphia Museum College of art and attended exactly one day - But that’s the rest of the story.  (To be continued)