Empty Nest

 

This August we fly to Sarasota, Florida, to help Charlotte, the French Girlfriend’s daughter, move into her freshman dorm. I suppose all parents go through it … the last child going away to college. It’s a momentous day for all involved.

Charlotte came to live with us shortly after her mother and I founded a house together. Showing the effects of a broken home, a child once vibrant and vivacious now cowered from waitresses, unable to summon even enough voice to order. Eleven and chubby, she hid in her room, her computer her only friend.

Seven years in a loving home brought blossom to that soul. Full of energy, she and her friends now send peals of laughter deep into the night. Her grades have stabilized to near honor roll. She cooks and cleans after herself. She’s a joy to have around.

And now she’s going away to college.

Sarasota is the hometown of the Ringling brothers, real people who used the wealth from their successful circus to establish museums and an art school in their favorite city. The art school, Ringling College of Art and Design, is considered one of the very best in the nation. Their graduates have penned most of the animation and special effects you see in Disney films, and are sought after by other major artistic-related companies, advertising agencies, toy makers, etc.

Charlotte’s always been certain of her life calling. From the moment she could hold a crayon she was drawing. Notebooks crammed full of her sketches create stacks on her shelves and floor. Collections of markers and drawing tools bulge out of dozens of containers and lay scattered across her landscape.

Her mother tells me the story of the day her parents received a letter in the mail from her third-grade art teacher. “In my twenty years as a teacher, I’ve never before run into such a talented young one. I plead with you, please encourage her in pursuing her talents and her dreams.”

In March 2020, Coastcon held their annual comics show, filling the Biloxi Coliseum. People dressed in costumes roamed floors packed with game players. In one section, the vendors had tables. As an eleventh grader, Charlotte built a 3-D booth that became a landmark for the show. Visitors flocked to look at her drawings, all of which quickly sold out.  

Last summer, she took an eight-week online course from Ringling known as pre-college. Here she received valuable feedback from art professionals, her appetite for her career plans sharpening like the points on her Derwent’s pencils. She now had both her profession in target as well as the path to achieve it.

As her senior year began, we decided to hire her a private art instructor. The well-known local artist Frank Janca showed up at our door weekly, and we watched as Charlotte’s talents came into focus. An easel set up in the corner of the living room displayed her latest project, a portrait, a still life, or a dancer in motion.

Over the past few months, she’s set up a small online business she named Char-Ton. She’s earning money for college by selling her work and generating commissions. She promotes her work on Twitter and Instagram.

When she received her acceptance at Ringling, we threw a party. During spring break this April we flew with her to tour the school, an impressive campus of over a dozen buildings, each chock full of the most modern technical equipment. They replace all their computers every other year.

During my youth I knew I wanted to be a writer. My father told me, “Art is fine, but it’s hard to make a living at it.” I’ve offered Charlotte the same advice. She doesn’t care. Whether she makes a fortune or lives in poverty, she’ll pursue her dream. There’s every indication she’ll be successful. Yes. I know she’ll be successful. Talent and determination will find the way.

 

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