When our second grade grandson visited for Halloween, he brought along a notebook of his drawings and announced with great pride that he had not traced the renditions of Pokémon and Picachu. These were free-handed illustrations, he emphasized. Grandpa and I were impressed and, with the youngster’s encouragement, we did our best to copy the tiny characters. Our junior Picasso marked our efforts "not bad" or "pretty good."
     Those are the best grades I’ve ever received for my attempts at art. When I was an elementary school student, we often had friezes—sheets of white paper stretched across the length of the blackboard. Always looking for ways to allow the boys to work off their excess energy, Sister had them outline the sketches of Netsook and Klaya of Baffin Island and other children we learned about in Geography class. The girls did the coloring because we could stay within the lines. This worked out fine for me because drawing a respectable stick figure for the game of Hangman had proved to be beyond my ability.
     My parents never would have said about me, "My kid could paint that," which happens to be the title of a documentary about a four-year-old art prodigy. Her work has been labeled "genius," and earned her a lot of money. The jury is still out as to whether the child is the artist or her father has concocted an intricate ruse and does the paintings himself.
     No one would doubt the talent of the daughter of one of my dad’s Army buddies. Paula opened Galeria Merida in Merida, Mexico. Every time I visit her Web site, I am dazzled by her eye for talent, as evidenced in the work she displays. Some is created by her younger brother, William. When my family visited them in Wyandotte, Michigan, back in the 1950s and 60s, these two gave no indication they had gifts of this sort. They were just regular kids like me and my siblings—nothing special. Late bloomers, I guess.
     Like Dennis A. Francesconi, who was injured in a water-skiing accident in 1980. Paralyzed from the chest down, Francesconi is now a member of the Mouth and Foot Painting Artists (MFPA). With one hundred full members around the world and over six times that number of associates and students, MFPA’s director says the artists are compensated comparatively to able-bodied artists. They are paid for their creations because they are "of exceptional quality," he says. It’s about "Self help, not self-pity."
     In an October article in USA Today, the inspirational Francesconi said that almost eight years after his accident he could only make an X with a pen lodged between his fingers. He began to practice writing with a pen in his mouth. Those X’s led to doodles and now, holding a paint brush between his teeth, he is working on a memorial for the troops. He hopes to have prints of the work displayed in hospitals in the United States, a tribute to the soldiers.
     When our grandson said good-bye to us last week, he and my husband talked abut the Pokémon and Picachu drawings. "Just keep practicing, Grandpa," the seven-year-old said. "You’ll get it." Dennis Francesconi will attest to that.