If Looking Back as an Eighty-Year-Old
Makes You Happy
Surrounded by the opulent wealth and magnificent setting of the Royal Barriere Hotel in Deauville, France two eighteen-year-old tennis partners, myself and California's Chris Lewis, were discussing our futures. The French Tennis Federation put us up there and to play in a small tournament that had four of the French Davis Cup players competing. Chris and I beat their No. 2 team and lost in the finals. Not bad. In our lavish bedroom Chris wished to make a lot of money and live this type of lifestyle. I, on the other hand, shrugged it off, and I committed then and there to accept that a poverty-ridden life lay ahead--but I would have the luxury of time to paint everyday. And if I looked back at my life choices as an 80-year-old I would be happy.
Both our aims came true. Back then I knew some great artists make it in their time, like Michelangelo, and others die in obscurity only later to be "discovered", like Van Gogh. What I did not anticipate is that my quest for humanism in art, for advancements in technique, and for psychological wisdom would pit me against the anti-human art culture of money launderers, CIA machinations, and emotionally retarded power brokers.
Undeterred, I managed to paint everyday.
Michael Newberry, Idyllwild, 5/21/2021