A Heritage of Finger-painting. Page 2... After college, Gwyn put down her brushes, became a third grade teacher and eventually married my Father, Charlie Reece. Soon, at the age of 26, she gave birth to me. Unfortunately, pregnancy helped to trigger a severe type of diabetes which would cruelly alter the rest of her life, making her sick much of the time and regularly dodging the Grim Reaper. During this time her perception changed markedly. She began to see apparitions, and to sense events that happened many miles away. Waking with a scream late one night Mom yelled, "Ruth is dead". A phone call the next morning confirmed her beloved friend and mentor Ruth Shaw had indeed died. I remember riding off into the night with Mom looking for ghosts of Indians sighted by generations of locals crossing a certain curve in the road. I did not see the ghosts but decided right then that life was like a giant iceberg in the ocean-and that most of us saw only the tiny tip of it. Mother began her art again, with the intensity and passion of one determined to see and paint the whole iceberg. Page 1| Page 2 | Page 3