Jodi Hills

So this is who I am – a writer that paints, a painter that writes…

Monthly Archives: September 2021


by 3 Comments

Black barns.

I have never smoked. I don’t really care about tobacco, but I was interested in the black barns of Kentucky. The woman at the tourist office told us they were used for tobacco. The black kept the barn hotter, and helped in curing the tobacco. So many are no longer in use, but I think they are still beautiful. They are so different from the red barns I grew up with.

We stopped at the Muhammad Ali museum in the next leg of this journey. I was never a boxing fan, but I was interested in the man. He was not a perfect human, but I haven’t seen one yet. I do know that he helped raise awareness for Parkinson’s Disease, the Olympics, the Civil Rights movement, and being human. I think that is beautiful.

It’s getting harder and harder to know who and what we are supposed to like anymore. We are constantly being told you can’t like this painter because he said bad things. Can’t like this music because the singer was a drug user. Can’t shop here, they support the wrong ideas. Can’t be friends with them, they voted wrong. I don’t even know if I’m allowed to eat that chicken.

And I want to support the things I believe in. I really do. But I want to know the world. Experience different things. Meet different people. Eat some chicken. So what do I do? What do we do?

If I write about something you aren’t interested in one day, does that negate the 20 other times you laughed or cried when you read my words. I hope not. I hope we can all be open to each other. I hope we can all believe in different things, and still be kind to each other. Walk different paths, and be open. Look differently. Laugh differently. And still believe in love.

I will sketch the black barns. The champion horses. The beautiful losers just wandering the field. And maybe when I get home I will paint the black barn. I don’t think my red barn will mind at all. I want to find the beauty. I think it’s even there in the search. Probably there, most of all.

Shop Now!


by 2 Comments

Slugger.

He was an older man in the church we attended. If I did know his name, I don’t remember it now. But I remember him. I remember his voice. He always greeted me with, “Hey, Slugger!”

I was just a young girl. I threw like a girl. I hit like a girl. And I was proud of it. I loved it. The sport was fun, but I think it was more the sun. The freedom of summer. The belonging with the girls. I suppose it was the first time I belonged to something bigger than myself.

When my parents divorced, it seemed this church decided to break up with us as well. I didn’t understand. My mother didn’t understand. It was subtle at first. Doors dropped in front of us. Coffees cancelled after services. We didn’t belong anymore. In a place where all should be welcomed, we were forgotten, all but for this one voice. This old man, who still saw me. Still called me by my heart. Still recognized the strength inside me. Didn’t see me as broken, but a fighter, possibly even a winner. Those two words, “Hey, Slugger!” — the most Christian words I ever heard.

Yesterday, we went to the home of the Louisville Slugger. I didn’t buy a bat. I didn’t need one. I know who I am. I have faith. And I am strong.

I want to be a voice that gives you hope, gives you strength. You can do this! We can do this! I believe it! C’mon team!

Shop Now!


by 3 Comments

Go higher.

We almost past by this store yesterday, until we saw the sign, “This store voted number one in Midway, by owner.” We turned around and went inside. A store with a little pride and a big sense of humor, we couldn’t miss that! It was a delightful store. And we almost missed it. The people inside were welcoming. Funny. And they had great merchandise. And we saw it all because they presented themselves in the best manner. Maybe we could all do that.

Even at our most poor, my mother always looked like a star. She dressed well. Put on her make-up. Put on a smile, sometimes gutted there by pure will, but it was always there. She looked great! Still does. Because she cared. We were at the downtown Minneapolis Dayton’s store. It had many levels. The levels got more expensive with each escalator ride. She didn’t even look at the first level. At the second, she glanced around and said, “Ewwww, this looks like stuff we could afford…”. We laughed and went higher.

Through the years she found the sales. Put things on lay-a-way. Saved. Wished. Styled. And always looked wonderful. She taught me that. What a gift. It’s never about money. It’s about style. And if that style can include a little pride, self-esteem, and a great sense of humor, that will take you pretty far, and you’ll look good along the way.

She will always be voted #1 mother, (by her daughter.)

Shop Now!


by 4 Comments

Willow.

There is an old Native American proverb that states, “No tree has branches so foolish as to fight amongst themselves.”

I was talking with my mom yesterday. She had just gone for a treatment in the hospital. She gets one every four weeks. She told the nurses about her new dress from Sundance. Showed them pictures. They shared laughs and compliments. “It’s my family,” she told me. Now I don’t take offense to this – I know I am my mother’s family – always will be, but I am forever joyed when she can find peace and laughter and support – and isn’t that what family is? – or should be.

I have always found my branches in the art communities. We have often referred to ourselves as the “land of misfit toys” – but a family just the same. Similar interests, goals, longings, aspirations — support, no judgements.

Outside of a gallery in Minnetonka, Minnesota, I used to watch a weeping willow tree. How it moved. As a whole unit. Such grace. At first sight, I was a little sad, our family had never moved like that. Oh, some branches coupled together from time to time, which was nice, but never like this. Never the whole, gathering strength in the wind. Never the whole, bracing against the storm. But then it occurred to me. I had found that flow in another place. Another family. And I was complete.

Family doesn’t need to be blood. How limiting is that? Family is family. You just have to find it. And when you do, you know it. And oh, how comforting. How beautiful. How fresh and green. What a flow. What a dance!

Yesterday, my husband and I (my newest family) visited a beautiful horse park. It was gorgeous. Barns of champion racers. Stunning animals. A strong, elegant, willow tree greeted us at the gate. Gathered in this new place, this place I would not stay, I was home. In this ever changing world, this not so ever green world, joyfully, I join in the family dance.


by 1 Comment

Beating.

There is no vacation from your heart. It’s forever with you.

Even as we travel, I always take time to create something. Daily blogs. Sketches. Small paintings. It’s who I am. It’s my heart. I don’t need a break from my own beating.


I started painting and writing when I was five or six years old. My mother says I would go into my bedroom, and no matter what I was feeling, it would end up on paper. Felt. Resolved. I know I am one of the lucky ones. Not because I have something I love to do – I believe everyone has that – but because I knew what it was early. And continue to do it.


Every bird in the sky, and each of us on the ground were put here to do something. Find your reason. For yourself and for the world. The scariest part I suppose is claiming your gift. Daring to do it. Once you’re doing it, you’re doing it. No fear in flight.
You can flap and flutter all you want. Fighting it. Digging your feet in the ground. But your heart won’t rest. Each beat telling you – “Just do it already. I’m right here with you.“


by 1 Comment

Somewhere. Here.

The principal is your pal. That’s how we learned to spell the word. It still goes through my head while typing. I loved school. I’m not sure if I was actually pals with any of my principals, but I know I had a respect for them. A little bit of a healthy fear. And that may be why I was never sent to my “pal’s” office, but I think it was more because I was so busy trying to learn. I wanted to learn everything. See everything. Because in this way, the school was more than my friend, it was my ticket. You might think I would say “ticket-out” here, but that’s not the way I saw it. Yes, we did live in our own sort of Mayberry, and I did want to see more of the world, but it wasn’t so much about getting out, but getting in – becoming a part of the rest of the world. Belonging. And that’s a big difference. I was looking for a way in.

I’m still finding it every day. I have seen things around the world that I only imagined. I’ve stood next to things that before only existed for me in books, in libraries. I have traveled through countries big and small. Yesterday, in the US, in North Carolina, we went through Andy Griffith’s hometown – the real “Mayberry.” Andy was a real pal I suppose. The authority, with a gentle touch. I know this wasn’t real, but it felt familiar. Familiar perhaps not in the sense that I actually lived it, but dreamed it. Hoped for it. Longed for it – that place that welcomes you, that lets you in, that place that doesn’t care how you got there. It turns out it was never a place at all, but an experience. A feeling. A love.

We asked the man carrying laundry on the street where the Andy Griffith museum was. He smiled. Started walking us in the direction. We thanked him. “Welcome to Mayberry!” he beamed as he said it. What a pal, I thought. We belonged.

Shop Now!


by 2 Comments

Self evident.



The first thing we saw while visiting the home of Thomas Jefferson was a collection of tools. A hammer. It made me smile. You would have thought the Declaration of Independence would be front and center, but it came after. Of course it did. First, there was work to be done. And there still is.

It was, I suppose, self evident that all men were created equal. Yet, they still had slaves. Today, we don’t have slaves, but there is still so much work to do. So the “hammer”, the work, must remain in the foreground. Knowing this, is a start. Maya Angelou always rings in my ear, “When you know better, you do better.” I want to do better – in everything.

I’m working on a collection of my daily blogs. It is entitled, “Pulling Nails.” Each time I make a frame at home in France, I take the reclaimed wood, pull out the nails, sand it, sand it again, and again, cut, strengthen, build something stronger, and it is beautiful. I suppose that has always been my goal. Take what has been given, and make it better. I hope I can do this. I hope we all can do this. Pull the nails and make something beautiful.

Let’s get to work.



Shop Now!


by 1 Comment

Lush.

I don’t often use the word lush, so I looked it up to make sure that I had the definition right. “Very rich and providing great sensory pleasure.” Yes! Exactly right. The trees we’ve been seeing on this visit are just that — lush!!


In fact, I would say, some of the best artwork I’ve seen on this trip has been growing beautifully and naturally along the route, beside the capitols, outside the museums, free of charge. What a gift!


I must admit, I haven’t always stopped to pay attention. And I apologize for that. (I’m learning — “all need not be green to grow.”) Once I started painted them, celebrating each leaf, each branch, I can’t stop seeing the beauty. I guess it’s the same for people. Once you start seeing them…


Take a look around today. The world is lush! See something – someone – again, and for the very first time. We grow together.

Shop Now!


by 2 Comments

Charmed.

I have visited 48 out of 50. (Sorry Alaska and Hawaii) I believe you can find something good everywhere. It takes a little effort, but you can find it. There’s one thing, though, that I believe can’t be faked, and that’s charm. Charm is palpable. When driving into a city, I can almost tell immediately if I would like to stay.

We usually pull into the nearest Starbuck’s for the boost in wi-fi and caffeine. At every Starbucks, I can get a non-fat, extra hot vanilla latte, and it will taste the same, but the experience, no…. In some states, cities, there are people with charm. I’ve tried to put my finger on why, and I’ve come up with a few possible answers. People in these cities have similar qualities – they are proud of their city, and interested in where you have come from. I guess this is education, and curiosity. This beams from their faces, welcomes you, and you can really feel it. The people who are curious, light up when we say we have come from France. “WOW!” they say. (And it deserves a wow – we’ve come a long way!). The educated know about their city. Big or small. They can lead you to the interesting and photo worthy. These people make travel exciting. Exhilarating. They inspire!

A couple of days ago we pulled into a city (I won’t say the name. I don’t want to offend.) Inside the Starbucks I gave my order to dead eyes – and they got the order wrong. I explained the order again to dead eyes. I asked about the area. Nothing. Nothing from the six eyes that looked back at me. Nothing when I mentioned France. Nothing when I asked about their city – in fact they said go to the next city. This made me sad. Made me want to leave. We did leave, soon after.

This is rare, but devastating. Not for us really, we have a ticket out, but for them. What do you have to live for if you don’t like where you are, and you don’t care about what else is out there? Now some may say, well that’s not fair, maybe they’re poor. And I understand that, but it’s not only about that. I’ve been poor. Very poor. And we have visited poor, and have been charmed. A couple of years ago we stopped into the smallest town in Arkansas. One store. It had coffee, candy, some groceries. The sign on the door said he would be back in a few minutes. We waited. He was. “So sorry,” he said while arriving. “I had to go to the doctor.” We smiled. No worries. “Where you from?” “France.” “Wow!” He said. Giving us free coffee. A free magnet – a razorback from his beloved state. He was happy and welcoming. We spoke of his little town, his health, his interests, our travels, and I will never forget this charming man, in this yes, charming place.

If the goal is to live a charmed life, and for me I think it is, then open your mind and your heart. Learn everything you can. Be curious about everything. Everyone. The world is a magical place. People can be delightful. Life can be beautiful. Everywhere.

Shop Now!


by 3 Comments

Navigating.

Navigating.

The GPS of our rental car told us to take the 476 Freeway in Virginia. We drove past the dirt and grass path. It told us to make a U-turn. It still pointed to the forest path. Well, that doesn’t seem right. We started to laugh. This couldn’t be it. We drove by again. Make a U-turn it said. Do it! It was very adamant. There were no other choices. And we were already in the abandoned mine… So yes, we drove into the forest. And around. Past the signs that read Danger. Into a GPS circle in the forest. I stopped laughing at this point and prayed Dominique could navigate us out of this Virginian Blair Witch Project and onto some sort of paved road. It was a matter of minutes – many minutes – but they were very long, long minutes… and finally we were back to the mine – the abandoned mine. I unplugged the GPS and we gutted our way to a glorious paved road, and then to the freeway. It was glorious.

I don’t know how many times through the years I have said, how did they, (we) get so off the rails?… “What kind of idiots believe this sort of thing!” “It’s so obvious!” Oh, I have said it all… and yet, against our better judgment we followed this GPS into the forest. It can happen. It can happen to all of us. We can go down a wrong path. We all do it. We can all get misled. Follow the wrong leader, the wrong crowd. And it makes a person feel kind of stupid. And here is the key part — when this happens — and it will happen at some point to all of us — do you double down, knowing the mistake, just to avoid feeling the fool, or do you admit the error, find a better way, and really show your intelligence?

Life is an adventure. We love going down the unusual path. Discovering new things. Lessons, beauty, life is around every corner. We celebrate it all! We learn from it all. And when we make mistakes, we unplug and reboot and try again. We laugh and have a new story to tell.

The right path is usually pretty obvious – sometimes, not until you go down the wrong one – but it’s there. Find your way. Enjoy the journey!

Shop Now!