In my first semester,
I attended a workshop.

Not many others came.
I don’t know why.

It was to learn about,
and work with
all of the many varieties
of
Crescent Illustration Board.

For our consideration,
they laid out different
markers,
pencils,
pens,
cray-pas,
and whatever you can imagine.

“Here,
try this on this surface.”

“If you don’t like it,
try that on that surface.”

“See what you like!”

It was heaven to
a broke youth
that could not even afford
schoolbooks.

I got to play
with so many fine things
that I never thought
I could afford.

Since there were
only a few students
in attendance,
the woman running it
gave me all of her attention.

She hovered over me
as I made marks,
testing different
implements
and papers
and boards.

She ooed and aahed.

Gasped,
as I made
a dramatic swipe.

She carefully examined the
mark making language
I used to evaluate
her materials.

Other students there
made
little drawings
of this or that.

I just tested everything
systematically,
little scratches
or broad strokes.
Fast. Slow.
Backwards.
Held on the side.
Pivot.
It was really informative.

At the end of the workshop.
The woman packed up.
She filled my school bag and pockets
with anything I could carry.

So many papers and boards
and demo notebooks.
Little 3-ring binders
with every conceivable paper,
labelled and numbered
for reference.

I told her I can’t accept this.
Holding my hand up.

“This Caran d’Ache graphite is 10 dollars, alone.”

“Oh, you.”

She just swiped her hand at me, smiling.
Indicating I should take it.

“These are all just demo products sent by the manufacturers.
We have hundreds of everything back at the store.
They keep sending it faster than we can get rid of it.”

She told me
when I go to
Artist and Display
that I should look for her.

She instructed me to:
Go up to the register
and ask for Nora.

“Don’t shop without me.”

I was happy about this because…
I didn’t like going to Blick,
it was so…
Corporate and stale
and the prices…
Eugh.
But it was the closest to the school.

I grew up going to Artist & Display.
Like my father before me.
It was the only art store I ever knew.
Independent and a fixture
in Milwaukee.
Not to mention, a few blocks
from my mom’s house.

From then on,
Nora was my first and only Patron.

Whatever I needed,
I would go to the store,
ask for her.
She would come out
and hug me,
and ask,

What did I learn in school?

Who were my professors?

How did I like it?

Am I having any problems?

Are there any girls???

Am I behaving?

She would take my list,
examine it,
and walk me around the store
picking out the items I needed.

For everything on my list,
she would add a handful
of others in, too.

Extra pencils.
Extra sketchbooks.
Pretty markers.

She would go in the back
and come out with
another big bag
of demo products.

So many things.

When we got to the register,
she would insist
that the employee
ring me up and give me
some discount
on top of how generous
she already was.

It was amazing.

She was so kind to me
and helped me flower
by giving me fine things
that I would have never
considered for myself
because she said
I deserve them too.

Shame, the store
went out of business
after almost 80 years.

After 2015, I never got to see Nora again.
She was so kind to me.
She was like
my own Mother Goose
making sure I had shoes
before sending me on my way.