Getting Dusty

I have good memories of this portrait, which I sat for 26 years ago. I wasn't much older than that at the time, either. I was studying in Rome and most of the other students in the program were in the Arts. This picture was done by a friend, Amy Beeman --I wonder how she's been all these years? --and I was reading as she worked. She hung it in a gallery show in the school building before the year was out, and when it was time to leave Italy, we made a trade. I got this and the sketch that immediately preceded it, and she got a pair of spiraling goat horns, joined by the top of the animal's skull, that I'd bought from a butcher in Greece. When she flew home, Amy was sure the horns would not get through customs, so she claimed everything she had, including post cards and silly souvenirs, plus she pretended to be dumb. The horns were wrapped in sweaters and did make it through.

That was my first time outside of the US, and I can still remember examining the smallest details of scenery, like the curbs, door locks, and trash cans. I remember going to the market and getting fresh bread and butter, and I could not believe the tastes. Everything was different than anything I had known. On top of being my first trip abroad, it was Roma, so my head still spins when I think back.

When I brought the portrait home I gave it to my Mom, and it returned to me when she died 15 years back. It always sits in a place I'll see all the time, but I don't think about it often. Looks like it could use a dusting-off, but how will I dust off the model, so much older, so discouraged in these times of late? I was so optimistic, so adventurous then. It's half a lifetime ago, and those were wonderful days.