Oh, I had this thought...if you are interested in seeing some of Anna's sculptures (although sadly, not the missing Haleluiah Girl) she has a web site at www.annakrafve.com Yeah, I know its mom-ish of me, but I'm really proud of her work!

Halleluiah Girl Gone Missing

This column isn't due out for a couple of weeks, but I ran into a couple of the TJC welding guys today having lunch at Bruno's. In honor of the great job they are doing, I'm posting this early. (Enjoy, fellas, and thanks for blessing our family with your good work.)


“I’m looking for a lost sculpture we call the Halleluiah Girl,” I explained over the phone.
“Oh, we call her the Rag Lady,” laughed the woman, a person of authority at TJC.
When my daughter was an art student at TJC, the teachers there created a welding class just for her so she could try her hand at sculpting. While the rest of the all-male class was learning to do precision welding, joining identical rows of metal over and over in precise patterns with no scarring in order to prepare for a future in aeronautics or medical technology, Anna was cutting Greek faces in relief out of metal discs and creating furniture out of old pipes.
The Halleluiah Girl began her life as a random circle, triangle and some spare parts, salvaged from a junk yard probably. With two metal stick arms raised in salute of the heavens, I imagine she was dancing in celebration of being released from a pile surrounded by chain link and guarded at night by ferocious German Shepherds.
I can imagine her excitement when she realized that she had been reincarnated on a college campus, surrounded by the stimulation and laughter that goes with young minds learning new things. Imagine her delight when she was assigned the task of jazzing up an empty space on the campus.
It was a task she did quietly, but enthusiastically for many years. Occasionally I would stop by to check on her, bringing my husband and his truck with the hope that he would see the value of moving her to our rose garden. For some reason, he believed she was happy where she was.
Alas, I may have waited too long. Maybe she felt abandoned. Unappreciated.
Maybe she felt exposed; naked and ashamed because the artist never got around to painting her.
Anyway, Halleluiah Girl wandered off the job.
“I’ll put out an Amber Alert for, what did you call her? The Halleluiah Girl?” promised the lady.
I called my daughter later to report the status on the lost sculpture.
“I have some good news for you. The folks at TJC have developed an emotional attachment to your sculpture. They’ve even given her a nick name.”
I am thinking of re-naming the sculpture: Homeless Girl.
I hate to think of her stuffed into a dark closet and jealous because the vacuum cleaners get to see the light of day once in awhile.
If we find her, I am going to give her a bright red coat of paint. Maybe a new task will help with her recovery, too.
She can wave at my neighbors in her bright red triangle dress as they drive by my rose garden. Maybe the neighbors will develop an emotional attachment to her, too.
Or maybe my husband will agree to donate her to a Homeless Shelter with an empty spot in their garden.
Maybe, when they see her dancing among the flowers with her arms outstretched to the sky, they’ll re-name her Halleluiah Girl once again because she is the perfect picture of second chances.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http:/checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.