I remember Oprah once told us that we had to pay attention to the signs, the quiet ones, because there wasn’t always going to be the Tabernacle choir singing them out. Some will come in a whisper. Today’s came, not in a choir, but on the radio. Twice. I put the coffee on the stove and turned on the kitchen radio. Tony Bennett was singing The Good Life – “Oh, the good life, full of fun seems to be the ideal…” I smiled and thought immediately of my mom dancing in the upstairs art gallery in Wayzata, Minnesota. The memory wafted and I heated the croissants. Four songs later, mid-croissant, the radio began to play “La Belle Vie,” (The Good Life in French). Ok, that wasn’t the Tabernacle choir, but I couldn’t ignore the signs.
Many years ago, Anne Davidson listened to her own internal Opray voices and opened The Good Life art gallery. Nestled on the shores of Lake Minnetonka, The Good Life was true to its name, being not just a place, but an experience. It was home to painters and sculptors, jewelry makers and collectors, and the famous gallery opening celebrations.
When Anne gave a party, introducing your newest work, it was really something. Being there, I always felt I wasn’t just at the party, I was in it. I think everyone there felt that – I sure hope they did – what a feeling! Curated by best friend Ken down to the last detail – which wine, which chocolate, which color red on the wall – it was always spectacular. Inspiration filled the room. It was like that feeling great cities give you – Paris, New York – in it, them, you just want to do better – be better. And we were. Together we were better.
We danced, young and old. In front of art, new and old. And we sold, not just our creations, but our visions. What it could be – what we could be.
I saw 70+ Corrine hoist 40lb framed paintings off the wall, down the staircase and load into cars. Deb ran the register and people lined up to be a part of this family – this joyful land of misfit toys that would change, maybe not the world, but our worlds. People came from barns and mansions and we were all the same, all trying, and often succeeding, even just for hours at a time, to live this good life.
You don’t know what will bind you, find you, carry you… lift you forever, unless you stay open. I want to be in this party, in this life. I am not going to visit today, but live it. Let’s live it – this one and everyone. It’s a good life! C’est une belle vie!