I went to a progressive nursery school at Mills College, Oakland, California, in the early 1950s. After being repeatedly quizzed, post nap, graham crackers, and juice, with me running down the list of; fireman, president of the U. S., Indian chief, taxi driver and policeman, I told I waned to be a finger-painter (professional, though I didn't know the word, yet). Teacher's were very encouraging, mentioning as how the world needed more finger painters of my calibre, and that I would make a good one. At age nine - under the influence of reading National Geographic magazines -...more
