ABSTRACT
Summer ’97. Hot. Mid-August morning. I’m visiting with my daughter in Atlanta. She’s just done with an undergraduate degree in painting at Spelman University. We’d needed her transcript.
“Let’s go see the show in the new museum”, she says. “Why,” I smile, “do you have something in it?” Wendi giggles in her special way, “No. But it’s a good show anyway”. The museum is in the new Camille Cosby Building. You can see where
every one of the twenty million dollars went. Unfortunately, the museum was closed. It had been under construction for much of Wendi’s career at Spelman so I was anxious to see it finished.
