Carmelita Pittman The Social Butterfly
Self portrait oil painting/ collage 18X24 / by Carmelita Pittman
BY CARMELITA PITTMAN
B
eing very shy as a child I would run and hide behind the furniture when visitors arrived in our home, I eventually outgrew that phase. I always admired those who were socially connected and prominent in stature, even as a youngster when I saw people like class mate Nettie Douglas in the 4th grade who was beautiful and popular. That was not me. I was in the shadows. But I had a leaning towards being religious. I was taught in Catechism class to pray the rosary regularly no matter where , even on the bus. About eleven years of age, taking that lesson to heart, I sat on a bench minding my own business praying the rosary during recess one day. The next thing I knew a crowd was gathering to watch me pray. The crowd began to grow and youngsters were even climbing up on the chain link fence above my head to see me. The growing crowd pushed me against the fence while they tried to get a better view. Some were running across the school yard because they thought there was a fight going on. But it was just me, praying. When I finished I stood up to the curious or mockers for my belief. Now it is dangerous in certain places in the world where
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Christians are in danger of losing their lives for their faith. But there is a saying that if you deny God, you will be denied when the time comes. And when the time comes I want to hear, "Well done my servant". That will be the greatest award of all. I am only two years away from the age that my mother was when her life was claimed by breast cancer. Because my mother sacrificed her own life so mine could be better I have remained in perpetual gratitude to her. On a secretary's salary she put me through one of the most prestigious universities in the United States of America, the University of Southern California ,USC. My mother, Juanita Zara Espinosa Uddin and my friend from England, Basil Swift, a writer for whom I worked for awhile, both insisted that I attend the reception at USC Fisher Art Gallery. I could not understand what was so urgent about me being there. Lo and behold to my surprise my art professors presented me the Ross, Spayne Perry art award which also included an art scholarship for a semester at USC. What a blessing. That was part of the pattern I became accustomed to. Beginning in elementary school I
