Mickey: Raising Chicks with Balls

Mickey: Saving the World One Corner at a Time by Judy Takács

I know nothing about raising girls…heck I barely know about the boys I’m raising, so with girls, I’m thoroughly clueless.

I do have a dream though, about how my daughter would be…if I were to have one someday. My daughter would grow up with self-esteem by the boatload. She’d judge herself by the content of her character, not by the size of her thighs (thank you MLK, paraphrasing that quote really worked here). She’d be kind, but tough; book-smart, street-smart and creative. And she wouldn’t buy into all the mean-girl business I keep hearing about from moms of girls. Neither a victim nor a perpetrator, she’d be confident and wise and would gracefully rise above the fray with humor, and rock-solid friendships with girls of substance who aren’t swayed by the popularity pendulum. And, unlike me, she’d have a sport. She’d know from experience how athletic achievement is good for a girl’s soul and body; that teamwork and physical strength are empowering.

And I’d be really good friends with my daughters. They’d call me with news; good and bad. If they needed an ear, a shoulder and of course, if they needed a laugh, I would be there.

In short, these fantasy daughters of mine would be like Mickey’s real daughters; she has two who are young adults, and one still in high school. All three are high quality women with brains, balls and heart.

Mickey has been my school bus stop friend for four years, but our paths have crossed since the early days of my momhood. Her youngest daughter and my middle son have been in each other’s classes since preschool, more times than I can remember. We’ve been in neighborhood playgroup, sat together on school committees and even played tennis at the same club. We’ve never played tennis with each other though; Mickey plays at professional level and I never went beyond cute tennis-dress beginner level. And I quit after a year because my tennis elbow made it uncomfortable to hold a paintbrush. (…I know, soul and body blah blah blah, but remember I was talking about my pretend daughters…not myself.)

Though we lead parallel lives, Mickey and I never actually got to know each other until fate, and the Solon Board of Education had us sharing the same bus stop.

Before I knew her well, Mickey had this aura about her. I saw her as a tough sporty lady with whom I had not much in common. I always imagined ladies like Mickey to be more from “shake it off” school of problem solving than the “talk about it ad nauseum and perseverate to the point of obsession” school…from which I hold an advanced degree.

But, being women, standing on a street corner, having just handed our children to a hissing yellow bus, we talked. And it only took about a day before souls were bared, philosophies were shared, teenage-rearing woes were laid out in painful detail and we became friends. No topic was off limits, religion, politics, soccer, tennis, school, college, drinking, drugs, mental illness, cancer, death, taxes, sex, husbands, parents, world injustice and of course…our children. Whether we were solving world problems, or those in our homes, the bus stop was where we held these summit talks.  If only world leaders listened in to our practical solutions, we felt real strides to world peace and economic stability could be made.

As the school years progressed, we continued walking our kids out to the bus, well beyond the point where they needed to be walked out. Our morning ritual became this wonderful daily therapy/venting/world problem solving session that I looked forward to as an opportunity to exhale about life before beginning my day sequestered in the studio.

Inevitably, I asked Mickey to pose for me for CWB. She loved the concept and chose from my vast selection of sports balls to symbolize her life and loves. One daughter plays soccer, one basketball and the third plays tennis, just like her mother. Mickey, also played basketball in high school, and became engaged to her sweet husband on a basketball court.  And her husband golfs, but I hate painting golf balls (you'll hear about that in future blogs)! No shortage of literal balls in Mickey’s life.

A Detail of Mickey's balls and inspirational bracelet

And then there was the jewelry. Mickey always wears a delicate braided black thread bracelet with a cross woven into it. This bracelet, made in the Dominican Republic is called a Denarios, or a small rosary. She wears it to remind her of the residents of a small village in the Dominican Republic, which had several years ago been decimated by a hurricane.

Each summer for the past few years, Mickey goes with her husband, her daughters and her church on a mission to rebuild their houses, build them a school, erect a playground, distribute clothing, food, knowledge and religion. They visit the poorest of the poor in a forgotten part of the world and help rebuild their lives. Paying it forward, these impoverished villagers share what little they have with Haitian refugees who have even less.

Tending to the residents of this village is a yearlong pursuit. Mickey works with teams all year to raise funds and determine how best to make these hard working people a bit more self sufficient and empowered with each mission trip. This pursuit is called “Mission Possible” and you can read about it at: missionpossible.us.

Our children have graduated from that bus stop and Mickey and I no longer have our bus stop summit talks. We vowed to try to meet once a month for breakfast, and have done so a few times. Mickey, and her wisdom, strength and heroic qualities continue to be an inspiration to me though, and I’ll continue to be thankful we were thrown together every day for four years on that street corner at that particular juncture in our lives.

And so I called her painting, “Mickey: Saving the world, one corner at a time” because that's exactly what she does.

The Litmus Test

Blue Balls for Scarlet…not truly part of the Chicks with Balls series,
but significant in its development

So Chicks with Balls was now officially a concept, but that and $4.95 will get you a Latte Grande at Starbucks.

CWB stayed on my back burner as I tried to develop my painting skills.

I continued to paint people…friends, models, commissions as much as I could. I sometimes would get together with artist friends and hire a shared model at the art studio in my home.

One such model was my friend Cindy, an active mother of triplets who were now three very active teenagers. Cindy is also a registered nurse and a highly accomplished belly dancer. A few artists and I hired Cindy to pose for us in full belly dancing costume while we painted her.

Cindy is also a devout Catholic with traditional views on a number of things. Over the years, however she has softened to my liberal heathen ways, as my respect for her faith has grown, seeing how beautifully she has used it to raise her terrific kids.

At the end of one of the modeling sessions, Cindy and I were the only ones left. We started chatting about kids, school, her daughter’s experience on the volleyball team and how my paintings were piling up in my studio and home. She said to me, what many people do without realizing just what a daunting and complex multi-layered comment it is, “You should have a show!” It’s kind of like saying, “You should get married!”…while yes, it would be nice, there’s a lot that goes into it and if it’s not right it’s a terrible waste of time.

At this point, I had not yet shown much, nor accomplished much artwise besides occasionally patting myself on the back for painting a convincing hand or capturing a difficult likeness. An actual solo art show was far from my radar since returning to painting after a 12 year baby-producing hiatus. Solo shows were what real grown-up artists did. Not me. Not yet at least. At 47 I was still very young at this.

But, I did have a response to the “You should have a show” comment. I told Cindy about my discussions with the small art center that wouldn’t show nudes.  Then, for some reason, I decided to go out on a limb and tell her about my Chicks with Balls idea…just to see what it sounded like when I said it aloud.  At this point I had only told my husband, who chuckles at my schemes and plans, and assumes I’ll do what I want no matter how he advises me.

a detail…I love painting hands

As one of my more conservative friends, Cindy was kind of a litmus test. She, along with many others in my suburban life had always thought it odd that I painted and drew naked people for my art. She was the last one I would expect to take off her top and hold volleyballs in front of her breasts. I honestly thought her response would be, “Yikes, Good Luck with that Judy!”.

Instead though, she laughed and thought it was a great idea! She actually joked about embarrassing her kids and posing with her belly dancing skirt and volleyballs for coverage. Funny what a day of modeling and breathing turpentine fumes will do for you judgment.

In any case, I was quite surprised but also very excited and encouraged. Maybe this idea could actually fly…maybe I wouldn’t be deported from the suburbs as a housewife pornographer. Maybe people might just “get this” …maybe women might feel honored to be asked to pose, and maybe some might just say yes.

A note about the painting above… “Blue Balls for Scarlet”. This painting is not part of the Chicks with Balls series. As of today, Cindy has still not yet decided to actually pose…though she loves the idea. And she knows she has an open invitation. Blue Balls for Scarlet is the painting she posed for in her belly dancing costume. I added the nude woman on the floor for a compositional challenge. The hands with blue balls were offers to Cindy to pose for Chicks. I also knew I needed practice at painting hands holding balls.

another detail from Blue Balls for Scarlet

Why did I call Cindy Scarlet? Cindy has told me on several occasions she would make a good Scarlet O’Hara. Though, when she poses for Chicks with Balls I will need to use her real name, and reference the fact she is a mom of triplets. I think I might call that painting “Cindy: Three Times a Lady”