Joy Cometh in the Morning : The Joy Postle Blackstone Story

by Johnson, Judy Madsen

• ISBN13: 9781462017478
• ISBN10: 1462017479
• Format: Hardcover
• Copyright: 2011-05-18
• Publisher: Textstream

Summary

Joy Postle Blackstone was best known for her vivid murals, often depicting the jubilant wading birds of Florida. When she died in 1989, the world lost a wonderful artist ... but Joy was much more than a painter. Joy's father abandoned the family when she was only three; her childhood was spent nurtured by her mother and brother, until she began her career at the Chicago Art Institute.After graduation, her life changed, as she and her family moved to rural Idaho to live on the family homestead. There, she met her husband, Bob, and so began their three-year honeymoon, in the midst of the Great Depression. Joy painted, Bob promoted, and they slept where and when they could. They eventually settled in Florida, where Joy made friends with the birds who would make her murals legend.Joy Cometh in the Morningtraces an artist's life from 1896 through to her death in 1989. Joy Postle Blackstone harbored the psychological scars of abortion, infidelity, childlessness, death, and the eventual limitations of advanced age; yet, as the Bible says, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." Through feast or famine, hope or despair, Joy persevered, and she did it with a smile.

Excerpts

Introduction, the night of Joy's birth, January 20, 1896:It seemed a bittersweet fate that Mary would cradle a new life in her arms while mourning her other babies. All were concerned for her state of mind. How many more tears could she shed and still hang on to her sanity?Until the final push, Mary was still in turmoil, and then suddenly amidst her prayers, the emotional struggle dispelled. Mary bravely set her face to the future and accepted the present with hope. She remembered a special Scripture, memorized many years before. When the happy tears of childbirth subsided, she recited the Old Testament promise, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning," (Psalm 30:5, KJV).The first chapter begins:Lying here in this hospital bed at West Orange Manor with a triple hip fracture, I've been organizing in my mind all the projects I still have ahead of me...painting murals on the stark white walls of the courtyard for one. It would liven things up hereabouts. These residents of which I am temporarily one, could feast their eyes on images of Florida's exotic water fowl and not feel so penned in.I'm over ninety years of age, and the staff has put me through all their incompetency tests. Who do they think they're fooling? They still haven't proved I'm senile.All my family has now passed, and I have no one to survive me except those who adopt me by holding onto my cherished memories. You will, won't you?Joy's father dies when she is nearly four years old:As to the funeral, I only remember the horse-drawn carriage ride in the funeral procession to Forest Lawn Cemetery. Inside the carriage, Mother and I sat opposite two stony-faced relatives, and nobody spoke. I crowded closer to her. Meanwhile, those women never took their eyes off me as they wrung their embroidered handkerchiefs and dabbed their eyes.Mother shielded me from the burial, but she showed me my brother's and sister's grave, and Papa's grave was dug right beside. I knew they must all be together in Heaven. I felt a little sad to be left behind..Joy graduates from the Chicago Art:The Chicago Art Institute was a prestigious academy with many celebrated artists on staff. It was such an honor when I was awarded an art scholarship. I also studied piano as a minor. Both disciplines I grew up with, beginning young. Who could have felt a greater sense of satisfaction than I? My joy overflowed. I was proud of being an artist and sometimes deliberately left a bit of paint on my hands so people on our train would know I was "one of them." Trying to appear nonchalant, I blushed with delight when I sensed my beret or sketch books caught their eye.The Postles move to Idaho and homestead fifty acres above the Snake River Canyon:Until the shack was ready for habitation, we slept in a tent and cooked over an open fire, always mindful of rattlers in the sagebrush and coyotes' mournful howls. This was so different from Chicago, we could scarcely believe we weren't dreaming. Never had we anticipated being drawn to a primitive way of life like this.Joy barely survives a tragic horse and buggy accident:..Ned started misbehaving. He always liked to go full tilt, and on this occasion, the breast-strap harness broke. Without restraint, Ned tore down the road at full speed. Before I knew what was happening, I was yanked from the buggy onto the lava rock surface. I narrowly missed a power pole and probable skull fracture or death. I landed on my face and was dragged several hundred excruciating feet before I released the reins that had been wound tightly around my fist. My face was cut to shreds. In the stillness of the country air, I screamed for help and then passed out!After winning three blue ribbons at the State Fair, Joy leaves the ranch behind to become an Interior Decorator in Boise; A romance with an unexpected ending:Dayton told me his family was having a party at their country home near Hagerman. "Let's join them there. It will be more fun than just the drive," he stated as he suddenly changed our route. The roadster swerved a fast right turn instead of left. The tires squealed and gravel flew in all directions. It took my breath away.The detour added miles to our journey. When we arrived, the sun had set. No one else was there. The large house stood dark and silent. Dayton got out of the car and came around to open my door. I didn't move. The chill of early fall blew across my face.Some hard times in Florida:Bob came home after scouting for a job without success, and said, "I guess I'll have to sell the mattress."I couldn't believe it. Weeks without income had worn on our nerves. Then I started bawling, "No, no, NO!"Bob sold the mattress right out from under me. I clung to it, thinking he'd change his mind, but we were broke and how were we going to buy food and gas, and pay our rent? There were bargain hunters around looking for good buys, and evidently, they thought the price was right for our mattress. We slept on the concrete floor.It was called a recession. Later we felt pretty good because we still had our stove, and we wouldn't freeze. When summer came, good weather drew us outside, and we swam in the lake. How could I have complained? It couldn't get much better.