Do Not Touch

Fourteen years ago, I took seven six-year old cub scouts to the Frist Center for the Visual Arts in Nashville, TN. In a rare moment of solitude, I reached out and touched the brush strokes of one of the paintings. That day will be forever remembered by my little gang of Cub Scouts as the day "Aunt Badseed" was yelled at by a docent at the Frist. Only one person got in trouble while at the museum and it was me. And guess what, I regret nothing because this is the same museum which forced me to explain to a six-year old boy why a dress made out of dried pig intestines is considered art!

So I total get and understand the concept behind this story. To this day I still get a little thrill when I remember the feel of that painting, the texture is etched in my memory and always will be.