Strange as it may seem, there are times when it can be surprisingly difficult to distinguish genuine courage from cheap bravado, confidence from hubris, true creative inspiration from magical thinking.

The trick is even harder to pull off while gazing into a mirror; so if you’ll agree to keep all that in mind as my story unfolds, I’ll leave final judgment regarding to you.

My tale begins innocently enough. In 1978, I walked into the Pittsfield Public Library, paused in the spacious foyer and gazed upward at the impressive domed ceiling finished in brilliant white plaster, gracefully curving up to a glass skylight.

I was so impressed that an hour later, while checking out a half-dozen musty hardcover detective novels, I felt moved to suggest to the librarian on duty that this architectural detail “just cries out for a mural.”

Was this a brash presumption on my part or merely an astute observation? Either way, in light of subsequent events, the sheer naivete of my comment seems worth noting.

As the months rolled by, I occasionally caught myself imagining how the library dome might look graced with a brightly colored, engaging mural, perhaps something on the theme of “the joy of reading” or maybe one featuring portraits of famous Maine literary figures, or a simpler motif celebrating of the joys of small town life.

Then one day I noticed a new librarian seated behind the big old oak desk. I’d barely finished introducing myself when she fixed me with a gimlet eye and inquired as to whether I was “the mural guy” she’d heard so much about.

When I answered in the affirmative, she flashed me a wicked spider-meeting-the-fly sort of smile and said, “Well then, when are you going to start painting?”

In the brief war of wills that followed, I quickly realized that I was hopelessly overmatched. Having already made it her business to review my published book illustrations and having ascertained to her satisfaction that I possessed the requisite artistic skill for the task, Linda The Steel Willed Librarian (hereinafter referred to simply as LTSWL) had arrived at the conclusion that if this oft-mentioned mural project of mine was ever to come to pass, I was simply going to have to step up and paint it myself.

Lacking any previous experience along the lines of taking “no” for an answer, LTSWL wasn’t planning on starting with me.

When addressing her, all my most reasonable, legitimate, fact-based reservations regarding the project were batted aside like so many pesky ping pong balls.

“But the skylight leaks,” I said.

“I’ve already arranged to have it repaired.”

“But the oil paint alone will cost a fortune.”

“I’ve found someone to donate art supplies.”

And so it went until every possible argument I could muster had been summarily dismissed and my will to resist was shattered. At least, I figured, if I threw in the towel and agreed to paint the darned mural, a day would eventually arrive when I’d find some peace, if for no other reason than that the accursed mural would finally be completed? Right?

Well, sort of.

I did paint the mural, of course. Somehow, over the next six months, following numerous public hearings with the Pittsfield Board of Selectmen, after Maine Arts Commission funding had been arranged and staging, lighting, brushes, paint and various other materials had been secured through donations from local businesses (all these efforts were, of course, spearheaded by the relentless efforts of LTSWL), I did indeed manage to design and execute a 22.5-foot-by-12.5-foot oil painting on the plaster surface of the interior dome of the Pittsfield Public Library.

I accomplished this by working odd hours of the day and night at an average pace of 20 to 30 hours a week over a five-month period. During that time I painted in oil while standing, leaning or lying either on or across a series of planks balanced on a couple of stepladders resting on metal staging draped with canvas drop cloths.

The mural began approximately 12 feet above the library floor and ended another dozen feet above that.

While I'm no Michelangelo, after 20 long weeks, Isuspect I had a good idea of how his back felt when he woke up in the morning.

So that’s my story. It’s up to you to decide whether my mural reflects courage or bravado, confidence or hubris. You might even drive up to Pittsfield and take a look for yourself before rendering final judgment.

I made mine over 30 years ago. Simply stated, I’m just darned glad it’s finished!