Every Masterpiece Begins with an Opportunity

Most people don't slow down at a traffic light to admire a utility box. But recently, as I drove through downtown Greensboro, I found myself smiling at nearly every intersection. What were once plain metal boxes have become colorful galleries filled with imagination—painted with the dreams of elementary school students from across our community.

Each design tells a story, but perhaps the greatest story isn't painted on the box at all. It's the story of a teacher who encouraged a student to enter a contest. It's the story of a child willing to try. And it's the reminder that opportunities rarely announce themselves as life-changing moments. They often arrive disguised as simple invitations.

I couldn't help but think back to my own childhood.

When I was in elementary school, my teacher, Ms. Strickland, entered one of my drawings—a colorful painting of Mount Fuji—into the North Carolina State Fair. I had no expectations beyond simply participating. Then something remarkable happened. My little painting won First Place and earned a big blue ribbon.

Looking back, that ribbon didn't make me an artist. It convinced me I could become one.  More than five decades and over 5,000 original paintings later, I still believe one teacher's willingness to take a little extra initiative helped shape the direction of my life.

That memory came rushing back as I watched these young artists proudly standing beside their work during Downtown Greensboro's Signal Box Project celebration.

Three Lessons Hidden in Every Signal Box

Great teachers don't simply teach—they open doors.
Every student whose artwork now brightens downtown Greensboro first had a teacher who believed the experience was worth pursuing. Entering a contest required extra effort, but those teachers understood something important: education isn't confined to a classroom. Sometimes the greatest lessons come from giving students an opportunity to discover what they're capable of.

Recognition plants seeds that often bloom years later.
A certificate, a ribbon, or seeing your artwork displayed on a city street may seem like a small reward. To a child, it can become a defining moment. Encouragement builds confidence, and confidence inspires courage to keep trying. We never know which moment of recognition may become the beginning of a lifelong journey.

Communities flourish when they celebrate creativity.
These colorful signal boxes do more than brighten downtown streets. They remind every passerby that creativity matters. They tell young people their ideas have value and that their contributions belong in the public square. When a city celebrates its children, it invests in its own future.

It was my privilege to play a small part in this wonderful project by recording a message for the students and presenting gift certificates to their teachers for additional classroom art supplies. Those gifts weren't simply a thank-you; they were an investment in the next generation of artists, dreamers, designers, architects, entrepreneurs, and innovators who are sitting in today's classrooms.

Perhaps one of those students will someday design buildings, illustrate children's books, create films, paint masterpieces, or simply discover the confidence to pursue a dream because someone believed in them.

After all, that's exactly how my own journey began. Every masterpiece starts with a blank canvas. 
Every meaningful life begins with someone willing to offer an opportunity. 

A Grateful Heart on America's 250th Birthday

For nearly forty years, I've had the privilege of calling Dr. Nido Qubein a friend. Like countless others, I've sat in audiences captivated by his ability to tell a story, challenge our thinking, and leave us believing we could accomplish more than we imagined. When he accepted the presidency of High Point College more than two decades ago, many predicted something extraordinary would happen. They were right. Today, High Point University stands as one of the nation's most admired institutions—not simply because of its beautiful campus, but because one man's vision inspired thousands of others to believe in what was possible.

What many people don't fully appreciate is that Dr. Qubein's vision was born from gratitude. Arriving in America as a teenager with little money and limited English, he embraced the opportunities this country offered and has spent a lifetime giving back. His recent essay published by Fortune magazine, written in celebration of America's 250th anniversary, isn't merely about patriotism. It's a heartfelt reflection on opportunity, responsibility, and the enduring promise of the American Dream. It reminded me of three timeless truths.

Gratitude Changes the Way We See Opportunity
It's easy to focus on what's missing or what isn't working. Yet those who accomplish extraordinary things often begin by appreciating what they already have. Dr. Qubein's story reminds us that gratitude isn't passive—it fuels ambition. When we recognize opportunity as a gift rather than an entitlement, we become better stewards of the life we've been given.

Freedom Comes with Responsibility
America's founders understood that freedom is never self-sustaining. Every generation is entrusted with preserving and strengthening it. Whether we lead a business, raise a family, volunteer in our community, or simply encourage a neighbor, each of us has the opportunity to contribute something that outlives us. Great nations are built one responsible citizen at a time.

Our Greatest Legacy Is the Next Generation
Perhaps what impresses me most about Dr. Qubein isn't the buildings or accolades—it is his unwavering investment in young people. Every student who walks across the High Point University campus is challenged not simply to achieve success, but to live a life of significance. As our nation celebrates 250 years, perhaps the greatest gift we can leave future generations is our example—demonstrating integrity, kindness, generosity, and hope.

As America marks this remarkable milestone, it's worth asking ourselves a simple question: What will we contribute to the next 250 years?

History is rarely changed by headlines alone. It is shaped by millions of ordinary people choosing to do extraordinary things with the opportunities they've been given.

If you'd like to read Dr. Qubein's thoughtful essay in Fortune and the story behind it, I highly recommend it. It's a timely reminder that while America isn't perfect, it remains an extraordinary place where vision, hard work, gratitude, and character can still change lives.

"As I reflected on Dr. Qubein's words, I realized how blessed I've been to spend my own career painting the beauty of this country and meeting people whose generosity continually reminds me why hope remains one of America's greatest resources."

Why Some Places Stay With Us

Not long ago, a collector stood in the gallery studying one of my landscape paintings.  After a few moments, she smiled and said, “This reminds me of a place my family used to visit when I was a little girl.”

The interesting thing was that the painting wasn't actually that place.  The mountains were different. The road was different. The trees were different.  Yet somehow it transported her back to a memory she hadn't thought about in years.

Over nearly five decades as an artist, I've heard countless variations of that same conversation. A mountain scene reminds someone of a family vacation. A quiet road brings back memories of a childhood home. A coastal painting evokes summers spent with grandparents. Often the painting bears little resemblance to the actual location, yet the connection is immediate and deeply personal.

Three Reasons Certain Places Stay With Us

We Remember Feelings More Than Details
Most of us don't remember a place exactly as it was. We remember how it felt to be there.  We remember laughter shared around a dinner table. The warmth of a summer afternoon. The excitement of exploring somewhere new. The comfort of being surrounded by people we loved.  Years later, a landscape can awaken those emotions in an instant. It isn't the exact mountain, tree, or shoreline that moves us. It's the feeling attached to the memory.

Places Become Part of Our Story
Certain places quietly witness important chapters of our lives.  A favorite beach. A family farm. A mountain cabin. A golf course. A neighborhood street. Over time, those places become woven into our personal story. They remind us of who we were, what we valued, and the people who walked beside us along the way.  When a painting echoes those memories, it allows us to revisit a piece of our journey.

Art Gives Us a Way Back
One of the things I love most about art is its ability to reconnect us with moments we thought had faded.  A painting can remind us of a person we miss.  A season of life we cherish.  A dream we once pursued.  Or a simpler time that still holds a special place in our hearts.  In many ways, art becomes a doorway, allowing us to step back into a treasured memory, if only for a moment.

A Final Thought

As artists, we spend countless hours trying to capture the light, the colors, and the beauty of a scene. Yet I've come to believe that what people connect with most isn't always the landscape itself.   It's what the landscape reminds them of.  Perhaps that's why certain places stay with us long after we've left them.

Not because they were famous, not because they were extraordinary, but because something meaningful happened there.  And when a painting stirs that memory once again, we're reminded that some of life's most treasured places are not found on a map.

They are found in our hearts.

The Sweetest Scoop in Town

Over coffee one Sunday morning, I read an article in Food and Wine magazine about America's favorite ice cream flavors and a brand called Halo Top that has become one of the country's best-selling ice creams. I'll confess—I had never heard of it.

That discovery sent me down a rabbit hole. While Halo Top has gained a devoted following, I learned that most of us still hold a special affection for our regional favorites. And that got me thinking about my own ice cream memories.

Growing up in North Carolina, Mayberry Ice Cream was always a favorite. During my college days at UNCG, Yum Yum Better Ice Cream was hard to beat, especially since it sat conveniently next door. 

But these days, when my grandchildren come to visit, there is one destination that immediately rises to the top of the list: Ozzie's Ice Cream in Greensboro. 

Ice Cream Is More Than a Flavor

Every Scoop Comes With a Story
Ask ten people about their favorite ice cream and you'll likely hear ten different stories. The flavor matters, but the memories matter more. Ice cream has a remarkable way of transporting us back to summer vacations, first dates, family outings, and childhood celebrations.

Local Favorites Create Community
National brands may fill grocery store freezers, but neighborhood ice cream shops still hold a special place in our hearts. At Ozzie's, you don't simply buy a cone. You bump into friends, meet neighbors, and watch local high school students serve portions generous enough to make you wonder if they misunderstood the assignment.

The Experience Is Often Better Than the Dessert
One of my favorite memories isn't the ice cream itself. It's sitting outside playing checkers with my grandson while trying to keep a melting cone from dripping onto the board. Those simple moments are often the sweetest part of the experience.

My Respectful Disagreement With America
According to the article, strawberry remains one of America's favorite flavors. I respectfully disagree.  For me, it's Mint Chocolate Chip,  not in a cup, not in a bowl, in a waffle cone.

The Real Secret Ingredient
As much as we debate flavors, toppings, and brands, I suspect the best ice cream has very little to do with what's in the freezer. It's who we're sharing it with. The laughter of grandchildren. The familiar faces of friends. The chance encounter with a neighbor. The simple joy of slowing down long enough to savor a summer afternoon. Halo Top may be winning national headlines. Strawberry may be winning national polls.

But on a warm Carolina evening, sitting outside Ozzie's with my grandchildren, a checkerboard between us, and a generous scoop of Mint Chocolate Chip in a waffle cone, I think I've already found my favorite flavor.

It's called community.

Why We Marvel

Recently, Cynthia and I took our three grandchildren on a trip out West. What I didn't expect was how often I would find myself standing in complete amazement. Over a few short days, we experienced two incredible examples of human creativity and three of nature's greatest masterpieces. By the end of the trip, I found myself asking a simple question: 
Why do we marvel so deeply at both?

Our first evening was spent at Cirque du Soleil's O at the Bellagio. Divers disappeared into deep pools, performers soared through the air, and somehow a stage transformed from water to dry land in the blink of an eye. The next night, we experienced The Wizard of Oz at the Sphere, where technology immersed us so completely in the story that it felt as if we had stepped inside the film itself.

Then came Zion National Park, Antelope Canyon, and finally the Grand Canyon. Each left us speechless in its own way. As different as these experiences were, they all produced the same reaction: Awesome!

Three thoughts stayed with me throughout the journey:

Wonder comes in many forms. Whether it's a canyon carved by nature or a performance created by human imagination, we are drawn to things that remind us how extraordinary our world can be.

The reveal is often the best part. Some of my favorite moments were the first glimpse of Zion's towering cliffs, stepping into Antelope Canyon, seeing the Grand Canyon for the first time, or watching the curtain rise before a performance. Anticipation makes discovery even sweeter.

Creativity deserves our admiration. Nature's masterpieces are breathtaking, but so are the accomplishments of talented artists, engineers, performers, and visionaries who transform imagination into experiences that leave us speechless.

What I may remember most, however, was watching our grandchildren take it all in. The wide eyes. The excitement. The questions. Their reactions reminded me that wonder is one of life's greatest gifts.

The older I get, the more I realize that we should never lose our capacity to be amazed. Whether created by nature or by human hands, the extraordinary is all around us. Sometimes we simply need to pause long enough to notice it.