Jerry Rayburn:  

CLASS OF 1977
Lakewood, CO

Jerry's Story

Life Who is it who said, "Life happens while you are making plans."? Life also happens when you aren't making plans. I didn't know what I wanted to be growing up. A fireman? A cowboy? An astronaut? Childhood dreams mostly. I mean, what kid dreams of being a sales clerk, cleaning toilets, a secretary, or artist? Please. I've heard starving artist stories all of my life. In some sense it's true. But being able to do what you're passionate about is priceless. In a round about way, I am an artist. From the time I was able to hold a crayon or pen in my hands I was drawing, much to my parents and grandparents vain attempts to keep the furniture and walls clean. I was discouraged and punished for doing what came natural to me. Childhood seems now to have flown by in a blur. A blur, meaning, I don't remember other attempts at being an artist. Being a kid, yea I remember that. Swings and trampolines and swimming and playing ball. What more is there to being a kid? I never could get enough coloring books, that's it. Art classes in school was either good or bad. Mostly bad because I hated doing what the teachers wanted to grade me on. "Draw this still life that has been sitting her since 1942." Little or nothing in art classes interested me. I had small outlets in high school by drawing on the paper covered tables in the library, or cartoonish stick figures on the blackboards before the teacher came in. After graduation I contemplated life working at my dad's gas station.(yea, right) No artistic talent required, just fixing flats and pumping gas I joined the Air Force in '78 and got out in '83. Working on radios and traveling the world, I found some free time to start drawing again. From '83 to '91, I did diverse jobs like, stocking/shipping at a tire store, dishwasher at a Keystone restaurant, installing invisable dog fences, and commercial painting/wallpapering. During that time I joined the Art Students League of Denver, learning more about drawing and pastels. Drawing nudes instead of s...Expand for more
till lifes, is far more interesting. At least until the male model comes in. '91, moved to Santa Fe, NM. to join in the art community. After working at a small sculpture foundry and spending a year and half in Loveland, at the Loveland Sculpture Works, I soon moved to directly working with artists/sculptors. In high demand with little pay, I decided I needed a little extra income from other sources. I worked maintenance at a commercial and residential complex, which took me away from the artist assistant gig, but gave me some free time to pursue my own art. Recently, as of Aug. 2004, I moved back to Colorado, where love has captured me. Absolutely unexpected. See, back in high school, I had a crush on a couple of girls, but one in particular held my attention all of these years. Maybe something inside back then was trying to tell me something. I got my first computer in '96 and soon joined Classmates. One day I saw her listed, but couldn't get my fingers to write her and say HI. Then on the evening of April 24th '04, I did just that. "Hi, you may not remember me. . ." Out of that little gesture, grew the most amazing relationship. A few emails a day grew into dozens, fitting two lifetimes in just a few weeks. Some things in life leave huge impacts on our memories more than we are aware of, making them impossible to forget, even years later. In high school, I never talked with her one on one. Never took the chance to get to know her. Yet, on May 10th, same year, I answered my phone. After 28 years, I recognized her voice immediately. Who remembers these things? Me? I must have heard her voice in passing and locked it away. Then came the day for us to hook up face to face. Though she had changed over the years(I have, too), I set eyes on her under her front porch light and it was as if I'd known her all of my life. Love is not strange, but it is familiar. Pursuing my art and living the blessings of a full & passionate life. School I wish our art class were more interesting.
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