I am talking about the online and then-some community of mosaic artists. We’re a little obsessive about our art, and there is an instant kinship between anyone that discovers it’s okay to go on and on about how much we love what we do. We’re sincerely interested to hear about each other's projects, see photos, and help each other with the practicalities of “how should I…?” In fact, once a year SAMA even throws a party for a few hundred of us.
Our demo skews female, and middle...er…uh...aging. So, it is not surprising that those ugly things that go along with aging females seem to be more prevalent in our group. And it sometimes sucks. I learned today that a good friend of mine, and an active, dynamic yet quiet, force in our mosaic world, has cancer. She was the first person from the online community that I was able to meet face-to-face at my first SAMA conference back in 2007. She and her husband took me in like a stray cat, and I played third wheel while we wined and dined and laughed, until there was the welcomed addition of a fourth wheel. And, we’ve all remained friends. The good, real kind. We don’t Facebook everyday, email everyday, or even every month, but our little triad (sorry, Vernon, some things are just between the girls) knows we are there for each other when the chips are down.
I wish I could be there to give my friend a hug, but she knows I’m there in soulful spirit, and even more than that, she knows she has hundreds of people routing for her to beat this “proliferative rat bastard.”
We love you, Pam. And Vernon, you've got a gig and you're on. It's a given you'll be there for support, but we're still counting on you to find, (well, provide), some laughter.