Talented Tuesday: Lady in Winter

Benita (McGinnis) McCormick (1889 - 1984)

Benita (McCormick) McGinnis drew this untitled
chalk rendering in Chicago, possibly in 1931.  

With winter snow and rain storms in full force across the world this week, it seems appropriate to post this chalk drawing by my great-aunt "Detty," Benita McCormick.  

The back of this portrait contains no information to date it, but it resembles  Aunt Detty's artistic style during the early 1900s. If you look closely, you can see the outline of the thin brown wooden frame that held the portrait for decades until it fell apart in the late 1980s.  

The writing in the lower right hand corner of the picture is barely visible, but there seems to be a number, possibly "'31," which could indicate that Aunt Detty drew this in 1931.  

The picture is untitled, as far as I can see, but I call it the "Lady in Winter."  On the back you can see that my aunt purchased the art board at a Chicago art supply store for 75 cents.

Aunt Detty's daughter, Jane (McCormick) Olson, gave me this picture in the mid-1980s.  I took it out at Christmastime to display on my antique dresser, across from a table lamp that also belonged to Aunt Detty and a small statue from one of her travels. 

The Lady in Winter, still as beautiful as she was when Aunt Detty
created her nearly a century ago, today sits contentedly on my
antique dresser, a reminder of an elegant and gracious era. 

This "Lady in Winter" looks quite content here, dressed fashionably in her red wide-brimmed hat as a stray lock of her gathered-up hair catches the wind.  A matching thick red scarf gently drapes around her high neck, falling softly over what looks like a fur coat so typical of middle class midwestern ladies at the time. A steady snow swirls around her as she serenely yet confidently makes her way down the street against a stormy sky, just before dusk. Her lips slightly pulled back into a near-smile, she looks straight ahead as if anticipating a pleasant event or meeting.  It is easy to imagine her warming up the room when she walked in, turning heads with her fine features and rosy countenance.

She is, the more I think of it, rather a lot like Aunt Detty.

Where is she going?  Who is she meeting?  Only she knows.  What I do know for sure, though, is that the Lady in Winter cheers me up every morning as she sits there on my dresser, reminding me that no matter what weather lies ahead, it is one's light from within that warms the heart and cheers the soul.  

************

Copyright ©  2015  Linda Huesca Tully

Wisdom Wednesday: Young for Such a Little While

Benita Jane (McCormick) Olson  (1927 - 2011)

Jane McCormick, Chicago, Illinois,
circa 1938

Of all their accomplishments, none brought greater joy to my great uncle and great aunt, Phillip and Benita (McGinnis) McCormick, than their two adopted children, Phillip Eugene and Benita Jane, known as Bud and Jane.

My mother, Joan (Schiavon) Huesca, told my sisters and me many stories about her cousins, as they lived only a few blocks from her in Chicago, Illinois. She was quite the tomboy and played mostly with her cousin Buddy.

Jane preferred to stay out of the mischief that my mother and Bud always seemed to make.  It would not be until many years later that Jane and my mother grew close as they discovered in each other common values and experiences as daughters, sisters, wives, and mothers.

At Jane's funeral in 2011, her daughter, Suzanne, shared this poem from her mother's leather scrapbook.  Jane had penned it at the tender age of 16. The Chicago Tribune had published it, no doubt making Jane's own creative mother, Benita, quite proud.

Wistful and wise, the poem is subtly humorous and self-effacing, so characteristic of Jane's personality.  It reminds me of one of her favorite childhood authors, A.A Milne, who wrote the Winnie-the-Pooh books.

When I was very young (almost a year ago)

And thought myself so awfully wise,

I'd sigh and smugly say,

"Aren't children brats?" and

"What makes them act that way?"

I saw them with unseeing eyes.

But now when little girls are lost in make-believe

And grimy boys make cops-and-robbers' sounds, I smile

Glad to hear that happy noise

And wish that I could lose myself, or climb a roof

And skin my knee, as do the boys - 

We're young for such a little while.

- Benita Jane McCormick

   Chicago, Illinois, 1944

(Gratefully published with permission from 

Jane's daughter, Suzanne Olson Wieland.)

************

Copyright ©  2015  Linda Huesca Tully