It has become an annual art show due to the fact that Betty Hutchens has continued to devote her talents since the first one in 2006. When you meet this five-foot force of nature, you begin to understand that we at OLLI benefit from her efforts to expose us to the art of our OLLI classmates as well as her own.
This year we were treated to seventy-seven pieces of art from thirty-three artists. A special contribution this year was a beautiful abstract acrylic painting done by Betty’s son, Richard, who passed away recently.
While the gallery was open all week, the reception was on Sunday. The reception included a variety of OLLI performing arts groups and talents.
Muriel Pendleton opened the event with the Recorder Group followed by greetings from OLLI’s Executive Director, Dr. Barbara White; OLLI President, Malcolm Green;
and Bruce Hatch, representing the Design Department. President Green reminded us that we should continue to develop our individual skills and participate!
Yoko Sugihara presented a beautiful drawing of her own to a very deserving Carl Curtis. Phyllis Goodwin and Louise Cunningham read their delightful memoir stories. Karen McDonough and Jerry Loeb wowed us with a whopping rendition of “My Favorite Things.” Fran Harding conducted the OLLI vocal ensemble. The day closed with the entire audience joining Al Talberg in a Tai Chi Chih demonstration. What a great afternoon.
Visitors signed a guest book all week with ninety-five attending on Sunday alone. We can’t thank Betty Hutchens enough. She did it all: booked the room, assembled the artists and their works, designed and sent the invitations, organized the program. Of course, she had a great group of helpers with the snacks and arrangements. She and Becky Low were the photographers. Harold Drab created the photo collage on page 10.
Betty told me that during the week a few young students wandered in and she overheard them say, “Would you believe it––old people did this!” Out of the mouths of babes. How does she do it year after year?
I know some octogenarians . . .
more alive than eight-year-olds.
They’re not worrying about their souls.
They meet for poker every week, they play and joke and reminisce: how little gas and steak would cost,
how hard it was to get that girl to kiss.
That was then, they say, and now it’s this: Get on with play. Forget how much you’ve won, how much you’ve lost.
If staying’s your intention, every play demands attention.
Stop complaining, place your bet.
This game’s not over yet.