I was taught...

to use the right fork...
to wash my paint brushes before going to bed...
to be kind to my neighbor...
to believe in God...
to drive a stick shift at twelve....
to yodel...
to play Pitch...
to write thank you notes...
to be completely inappropriate...
to appreciate the symphony and the ballet...
to blow really good smoke-rings...
to sail...
to read words out of a lit cigarette in the dark...
to gamble...
to put my napkin in my lap...
to wait until everyone sits down to eat...
to say grace at the table...
to honor all religions and cultures...
to not eat with my mouth full...
that being an artist is what counts...
that TV is poison and we rarely turned one on...
to read, but hated it because I was forced to do it...
that family tradition counts...
to bake....
to improvise in the kitchen...
that animals were sacred beasts...
to love unconditionally, but I wasn't...
to play several instruments...
to be honest, open, and inappropriately blunt...
that I could do anything I set my mind to do...
to be an intellectual snob...
to be silly...
to be daring...
to think out-of-the-box...
to feel guilty about most things...
to be a helluva good mother...
to ride a bike...
to appreciate good jewelry...
tenacity...
to be brave...
to be a little nuts...
patience... from my dad...
to have an unrealistic view of my talent...
to have illusions of grandeur...
that reading, playing piano, and painting were much more important than cleaning or ironing...
to be adventurous...
to be a friend...
to be quiet but...

 that last one never worked...