The Tale of a Friend, Vintage Photos, & an Artist Named Doug
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My Dear Lovelians,
I did it, I found lovely! Here’s what I discovered on the matter…
First, finding beauty in life is not as difficult as it may seem. Second, it may involve spending $25 on vintage photographs. Thirdly, friendliness and genuine interest in others are desperately craved by most strangers, even if they don’t know it themselves. These I experienced by telling myself Now not Later.
Choosing “Now not Later” can be quite difficult when one such as myself is used to the “Later not Now” cycle. By cycle, I mean the endless loop of an inner monologue that goes something like this: what a fun idea! I don’t need to put it in my calendar now. I’m sure I’ll think of it later. Here be the problem. The excitement I feel in the moment convinces me I’ll remember to plan to attend or sign up for whatever rests in the forefront of my mind in that moment.
Then I go to the grocery and the forefront of my mind is replaced with thoughts of ground beef, potatoes, and kale. Oh, crud, I forgot I also need gas. I wonder if the pump will malfunction again and make me go inside and talk to the clerk (That’s not really how I think. My thoughts sound more like I wonder if the thing will do the thing and make me do that again, but you get the point).
The mind takes in so much information during the course of a day and switches gears so often, depending on which memories are required for an environment. It is quite literally insane to keep on believing it will be a good brain and remind me of that “fun idea” I was too lazy to plan for earlier when experience has proven otherwise time and again. For this cycle to break, Later not Now thoughts must become Now not Later. And that’s exactly what I did.
I used to think sidewalk signs and similar advertisements were pointless and made a place look cluttered. I never responded to them, so why would anyone else (assuming everyone else was as apathetic as me)? Looking for lovely means killing apathy by caring. Caring about making life happen instead of sulking in disappointment when it doesn’t happen to me like the heroes in the books I read, so this time, when I saw an interesting sidewalk sign promoting an antiques festival, I plugged the dates into the calendar on my phone. It literally took less than twenty seconds.
I previously mentioned looking for lovely means caring and making life happen. I’d like to add to that and say looking for lovely means not only making life happen but reaching out to others and doing life with them. In this instance, after I plugged the dates into my phone, I texted a friend and asked if she wanted to join me. I say “friend” loosely. I’d only been on one outing with her, and at this point, it had been about a month since we’d interacted with each other; I wasn’t even certain she’d remember me. What I did know was she’d previously mentioned a love for antiques, and I genuinely liked her (as first impressions go). I took the risk. She said yes! So, we chose one of the days and set a time to meet up.
Alright, so the address to the festival was rather wonky. By wonky, I mean completely wrong. My acquaintance-friend and I ended up walking in the complete opposite direction for about ten minutes before ending up at a tiny Baptist church with no human in sight. Then she peeked at my phone and suggested searching the store name the festival took place behind instead (not sure why I didn’t think of that), but hey! We were off to a good start because as any good storyteller knows, the protagonists trash the plan at least twice in their adventures, so we were doing something right.
We did finally make it to the fair and wandered around the rows of tents with the wide and random assortment of wares typical for antique displays. What a range it was---refurbished steamer trunks, glass dinner sets, a hat belonging to a real WWI uniform, porcelain dolls, wooden tools, half-filled ledgers with calligraphic script, jewelry (though I’m quite certain the rings were fake), coins dating back to 4 A.D., and, of course, photographs and postcards.
I feel kind of bad (but not really) because the hour or so we spent there I'm pretty sure was mostly me sorting through piles of old pictures. Thankfully, she wandered to another tent close by to peruse through wares of her interest whenever I did this. I just can’t help it! Antiques in general pull my interest because they all exude a story, having once been owned by a real person, but photographs captivate me. Pictures provide evidence of an old world I can see and real people who actually existed. Who was Mrs. Lillian or poor, lonesome Mary writing to her Mr. Ray Jayle?
Even more amazing, when I showed them to my mom, she pointed to one and told me my grandfather grew up there. The image was practically taken in his backyard! I imagined him as a young boy around ten, sitting there by the pond and fishing while wearing his old baseball cap and spectacles (because without them he wouldn’t be Grandpa). What beautiful finds.
Afterwards, neither of us desired to part ways, so my acquaintance-friend suggested showing me to some boutiques she’d previously visited downtown. Interestingly enough, I’m downtown every other day to write in one of the local coffee shops, but I’ve never really explored it. For the next few hours or so, the two of us visited every shop she knew of and a few she didn’t, but they looked interesting, so we tried them. The whole time we talked about everything from antiques to books to clothing styles to guilty pleasures.
How routine my life had become. I live in such a curious place but never bothered to really know it. I suppose this is a reason the places I’ve lived as a teenager into recent years have never really felt like home. I occupied space but never explored anywhere outside my routine or needs. If I didn’t have to be there, I wouldn’t go. How boring is that? I still think about this when presented with free time. What if, instead of just filling the space with piddling around my bedroom or looking at beautiful pictures on the internet, what if I actually took the time to find a beautiful or fun spot near me and actually experience it for myself? It’s so easy to get caught up in the poor me my life is so boring mindset when I myself am doing nothing to change it.
Now, what about the artist named Doug? Well, this lovely gentleman I met at one of the last stops my friend and I made. The little studio shared space on the second floor above an antique shop with a boho-grunge clothing boutique. Quite a marvelous little hole-in-the-wall if I do say so myself. After exploring the shop, we poked our heads into his studio, as we were rather unsure if we were even allowed to be there.
He welcomed us warmly while not taking his eyes off the Madonna painting he was working on (Renaissance Madonna, not the singer) and before long, he and I prattled on rather passionately about art. Modern art, old Renaissance art, art museums, art styles, everything. It was quite fun, and both of us I think enjoyed connecting with a fellow lover of the masterfully beautiful, the kind that requires a person to study hard for seven years in order to really understand light, shadow, perspective, the human body, and so much more.
He tasked me with finding an art museum to paint in and report back. I feel rather guilty I have not yet done so because I quite like Doug, and I like to think he enjoyed me because this has been my experience when conversing with others. No, I’m not speaking of me personally (yikes! That would be narcissistic). I’m more referring to the appreciation others convey when a fellow human being takes a personal interest in them. Evidence includes: sparkly eyes, a genuine smile, and an overall light and relaxed demeanor.
How did I do it, strike up conversation with a stranger so easily (the introverts ask)? Honestly, it wasn’t. Easy, I mean. To be fair, I’ve taken great efforts to learn and apply social skills as an introvert because too many of us miss out on life with others because talking with people is exhausting, and awkward. I get it. My solution? If I were five years old, what would I say? This is quite literally my approach to conversation. Children are bright, inquisitive, incredibly empathetic, and generally in love with life as a whole. Yes, I realize many can be little monsters who enjoy wreaking havoc; there’s no denying that (babysitters, school teachers, parents, and bus drivers…I salute you), but get them outside school and in their element (aka. The world), and you see a completely different side. Kids ask questions as simple as “What are you doing? Why are you doing that? What is it? Can I help?” Granted, not all of these work with every scenario, but the key is not to overthink it.
Why would I even want to practice social skills in the first place? Well, several reasons come to mind. One, I need people and community just as much as extroverts (yeah, I’ve been through quarantine too. Prove me wrong, introverts), and I enjoy discussing topics I’m interested in, which, funnily enough, does not include the weather. Two, I want to like people. Yes, many are *insert naughty word of your choosing,* but I have discovered a surprising number are not.
They’re just…people. People my God loves very much, and I can’t in good conscience abandon them for my quiet, comfortable little bubble when Papa sacrificed everything to save them. The whole mindset of “Well, I’m safe, so meh, have a nice life suckers!” just feels so wrong to me. At least, it’s begun to. I admit, this is a rather recent shift, so I don’t think less of those who continue with this mindset, but I do believe they will miss out on something amazing if they continue to eschew people. And yes, I realize I’ve just thrown a large number of people under the metaphoric bus, so…sorry (not sorry).
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