My mother is the youngest of five children. Her older brother, Lawrence, an interior designer, introduced the family to an artist, Florence Ware. All five children and her parents owned at least one Florence Ware piece.

Mother, however, loved a portrait of a Native American Chief.

MOM:  Remember the painting of the Indian in the airport that Florence Ware painted?

ME: Do you mean Native American? Feather, not dot.

MOM: No. I call them Indians.

ME:  Mom, that is politically incorrect.

MOM:  What should I call them?  Lamanites?

Mormons believe that Jesus visited the Nephites and Lamanites in North America before he was resurrected.

ME:  No. Tell me about the Indian.

MOM:  Well, those dumb bunnies when they re-did the airport moved him.

ME:  Where did they take him?

MOM:  To a senior center not too far from Jeff’s houses.  Uncle Lawrence and I went to see it the other day.

ME:  Good.

MOM:  You know, I could go to the senior center to play bingo.