THE WRINKLE Swimming Shorts

Everything's going swimmingly, ya dressed for it? These swim shorts are sporty, fun and perfect for a staycay or vacacy. Their outer shell has a breathable, quick drying, waterproof material. Designed with dual side seam pockets, a fixed elastic waistband, drawstring detail and mesh net briefs, they've got all a guy could need in comfort as well as function. Grab a pair or grab a couple to just keep swimming the year 'round!

ABOUT THE PAINTING:

THE WRINKLE: Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 20 IN.

Sometimes I wonder and then I wander… how many “near misses” and “close but no cigars” are we traversing in our lives? I joke around about traffic, stoplights and invariably being late for an appointment or engagement. Honestly, I don’t think it’s completely ridiculous to fall back on the affirmation I use most while traveling roadways and byways through life: YOU’RE RIGHT WHERE YOU NEED TO BE.

I was reminded of that axiom while writing the accompaniment for this piece. Sometimes, the words for my paintings flow. Sometimes, I need a little space between finishing a piece and writing the accompaniment. This piece was one such occasion, so I went to the Denver Botanic Gardens to clear my head. It was there that I found the answer in meeting Connie and her mom.

I was sitting at a corner table, near a waterlily pond facing the sun… and, it would seem, facing a woman the same age my mom would’ve been had she lived and her mom. I could hear bits of their conversation, talk about the weather and flowers and how the coffee might have been too hot… was drawn to their body language. When the opportunity arose, I told them they made me miss my mother and grandmother. We shared a laugh, then I went back to work, they back to their coffee.

As the gardens began to close, Connie left the table. I began packing my things and talking with her mom. She was in her 90s and from North Dakota. She’d been visiting Connie and her family for close to a month. Denver had better medical care than where she lived. Connie had been trying to talk her into selling her house and moving in with them but she didn’t want to be a burden. I stopped her midsentence because I knew this conversation well, I’d had it before and listened as my friends had shared the same conversations with me. “You’re not a burden, if your daughter is offering it…” I started, then let the words sink in as I continued with the same things I had told my dad, my grandma and advized my friends many times over through the years. Connie walked into our conversation, listening and mouthing thank you behind her wheelchaired mom. 

Thus, the story for THE WRINKLE was written in that conversation; my belief that I’m always right where I need to be was again reaffirmed.