Category Archives: Childhood

All in Your Thinking

Autumn Leaves

In one of my old books of poetry, I found some golden autumn leaves pressed carefully into a page. This was the poem on that page. Although the words aren’t quite addressing a little girl, I remember liking the poem when I was a kid. And so, I’m sharing (as formatted in the book):

‘Thinking’ (or) ‘The Man Who Thinks He Can’ by Walter D. Wintle

If you think you are beaten, you are;
If you think you dare not, you don’t.
If you’d like to win, but think you can’t
It’s almost a cinch you won’t.
If you think you’ll lose, you’ve lost,
For out in the world we find
Success being with a fellow’s will;
It’s all in the state of mind.

If you think you’re outclassed, you are:
You’ve got to think high to rise.
You’ve got to be sure of yourself before
You can ever win a prize.
Life’s battles don’t always go
To the stronger or faster man,
But soon or late the man who wins
Is the one who thinks he can.


Filed under Childhood, Inspiration, Journal, Life, Nature, Poetry, Psychology

Blues Cat

Blues Cat by Karen Gadient, 2014

Blues Cat. Cat in a cool mood.

I’ve been surrounded by cats since I shared a playpen with one and I couldn’t imagine my house without a cat or two. One of my favorite childhood poems:

Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair.
Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge.
Open drawer, empty shoe, anybody’s lap will do.
Fitted in a cardboard box, in the cupboard with your frocks.
Anywhere! They don’t care! Cats sleep anywhere.
― Eleanor Farjeon

Click here for more about what I do and to view my art galleries.


Filed under Animals, Art, Cats, Childhood, Color, Creativity, Digital Artwork, Graphic Design, Pets, Poetry, Portrait

Art for a Cause: A New Beginning for Liam


Since so many people (quite unexpectedly for me) loved the tree silhouette artwork in the previous post, I thought I’d offer it in a special way.

If you donate any amount to my dear friend Natania Barron‘s GoFundMe fundraiser for her amazing son Liam — and comment here or email me (karen «at» karengadient «dot» com) to let me know — I’d send you the digital file of Eastern Dusk for free and you can print it at home―way cheaper than me trying to offer it at the online gallery.

File is 8″ x 7″ and JPG and/or PNG at 300 dpi. It’s smaller than my usual pieces because I’d only designed it as a post-topper for the blog at first. I’ve tested it at 12.00″ x 10.50″ and it prints well at that size and smaller (not sure about larger). The Eastern Dusk version below is the one being offered.

I’d be super pleased if you’d help! So, donate here and let me know:

A New Beginning for Liam

Oh, and… even if you can’t donate: sharing the link to Liam’s fundraiser would make you just as awesome!



Filed under Art, Autism, Blogging, Childhood, Digital Artwork, Family, Friendship, Life, Love, Printing

Urban Myths and Memories

I grew up in Irvington, New Jersey, which I’d best describe as a suburb of Newark, despite the area not being suburban in a soccer-mom sense. Irvington has been given a rough reputation, but I’m loyal to it. It’s my hometown.

As a kid, I knew every house on my street. I knew all the blocks around me. I knew downtown and I knew the parks. I felt sad every time another neighbor moved. People tried to stay in touch, but a lot of friendships faded.

I was a kid and I did not see color. I saw people.

I still see people as people. Not their color, faith, sexuality, or politics.

But this wasn’t supposed to be a post about that. I wanted to share something weird from my childhood. I couldn’t find anything written about it, although I’d bet other people in Irvington were probably told a similar story as a kid.

Ornate Line

Irvington has these canals. Some people call them brooks. Made of stone and pretty tall in some areas, finished with fencing and probably pretty damn old.

Anyway, when it rains, they fill up. We have them here too, but in the Southwest, they’re flatter and wider. The ones in Irvington—if you got in one, climbing out was difficult. Kids drown in things like that. Hell, kids drown in the ones here too.

My father knew how much I explored. Really, I got into everything. I had friends that had gone into the canals. Well, my father showed me this stone face in the wall near the high school. He told me several versions of how that face got there:

It was haunted. It was the guardian of the waterways. It was one of the people who built it and they got stuck and were left there! It was even someone he knew. Half the time, I suspected he’d put the face there himself.

Other kids got similar stories. One of our neighbors even told this gruesome tale of the face being the mother of some kids who drowned down there! Told all us kids that one. “If you go down there, she’ll keep you instead!” Real La Llorona.

If you’d heard that woman talk, you’d believe her too.

Kept us from going down there. Still, wonder what the true story is?

CLICK HERE for a photograph of the “face in the wall”.
I couldn’t reach the photographer for permission and didn’t feel comfortable using the image without his okay. It’s the only photo I could find of the “face”.


Filed under Childhood, Journal, Life, The Unknown