Archive for the ‘Blogging’ Category
Friday, February 20th, 2009
“Death is at all times solemn, but never so much so as at sea. A man dies on shore; his body remains with this friends, but when a man falls overboard at sea and is lost, there is a suddenness in the event, and a difficulty in realizing it, which give to it an air of awful mystery.”
—Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
Two Years Before the Mast
We navigate in a sea of souls…
Grim reality has a way of sweeping aside all the self-absorbing trivialities that clog a journal like this, but rather than ask myself — “What’s the point of it all?” — why not scratch ahead with a continued search for meaning? Maybe for me. Maybe for you. Maybe, maybe not. If I stopped believing it worth a try, this would be my final post.
Not long after the bulk of our community had shaken off the surprise of our shared crisis, most of us were shocked to learn that the life of a respected local leader had been tragically lost. If his name was added to the list of Kentucky’s weather-related deaths, it is unknown to me, but what is clear is that he was found in a vacant house where he’d been working with a generator. The coroner said the circumstances were consistent with carbon monoxide poisoning. It was a mild day. He wasn’t attempting to heat the building. People speculated that the wind blew the door shut while he was operating a sump pump. The precise circumstances remain a puzzle. I didn’t know anyone active in town affairs that didn’t consider him a friend. He covered the leadership bases—from business to social service. He made multiple trips to the Gulf Coast as a volunteer to help with the Katrina response. He was highly intelligent, compassionate, and knew how to do almost anything. The Chamber of Commerce named him “outstanding citizen” over fifteen years ago, but he never slowed down. He took to his grave an unmatched knowledge of the County’s industrial development history and infrastructure. He was the last of a breed of quiet men who had made a truly significant difference. The abrupt vacancy was painfully felt. I spent two hours in line to offer his family a few words that wouldn’t sound trite. I’m not sure that I succeeded.
I didn’t attend the funeral the next day, but paid a visit with my friend Danny to the Abbey of Gethsemani. It was my first time there. It was raining and in many respects would have been considered a dismal day, but others were also making the same pilgrimage, and I found a sense of peace in the setting that defied personal understanding. God is everywhere, but keenly present in some places, and that suggests to me the appropriate use of the word “sacred.” We also stopped at the Saint Rose church in Springfield to meet Father Murray, and I had my first look at the extraordinary Bavarian-style windows. Father Murray is extraordinary, too. At age 87, he looked to me to be in his mid 70s. He told me, “Well, I’ve always gotten a lot of exercise.” He pointed out 70-year-old trees damaged in the ice storm that he helped plant when he was a novice. The seminary was moved east long ago and the associated buildings demolished, but the church remains, a splendid structure full of artistic treasures, including a 13-figure Last Supper and a 12-figure Pentecost, all wood carved in the Italian fashion. Danny wanted to show me the Convent near Loretto and to check on any damage to the outdoor Way of Sorrows. It was evident that huge limbs from the tall grove of surrounding trees had crashed all about, but the only casualty was The Crucifixion. We marveled that each figure of Our Lady had escaped harm, but that “Christ took the hit.”
Several days before, Joan had an opportunity to meet Danny when he joined Joan, Dana, and me at the Hub for coffee after one of Hayley’s high-scoring victories. It was another meaningful, in-depth discussion about heavy subjects. Joan thought she might have intruded and skewed the conversation. Nothing could be further from the truth. Danny told be later he was pleased to meet her and said that my sister was a “strong soul.” He is correct, of course, but I’ve already known that for some time. Danny is quite a soul himself. The word I would use is “magnanimous.” Yesterday he brought over his pole saw and tied himself to my chimney so he could deal with the big branches that were still jack-knifed on our rooftop. One of his earliest memories is watching his father top trees as a lumberjack in the high Sierras. He seems to have the right tool for everything and knows how to use them safely. I can’t say how much I appreciate that in two hours of work together, his generous favor of skill has saved me hundreds of dollars in tree-service fees (or maybe more, from what I’ve heard around town about what people have been charged since the storm).
So, with power now restored for Mombo and Clan Valley and the last of my storm-related headaches resolved, can I say that circumstances have returned to normal? “Not hardly,” as the expression goes. I think I’m battling the same virus that put Bruce back in the hospital yesterday with pneumonia. We’re sleeping on the floor because we made the blunder of giving away our old mattress before FedEx delivered the complete replacement set (and, wouldn’t you know it, they lost part of it). I have no complaints. Things are picking up in the studio, and I have a fun project to work on with KK & K. It’s time to put the Crash Bucket away and begin preparing for the March Exercise.
Posted in Angst, Art, Blogging, Bruce, Caitlan, Community, Crashology, Dana, Death, Exercise, Family, Friends, Gratitude, Home, Joan, Mombo, Nonfiction, Saints, Sport, Studio, Technology | No Comments »
Friday, August 1st, 2008
— Month of July workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-8; Run-2; Lift-1; Yoga-0; Pilates-0; Lupus Drills-0
— In spite of my best cross-training intentions, the season has shaped up to be a one-note story: bicycling. Hmm… a summer without swimming? —preposterous! This means I have only one month to prepare for the challenging waters of the Les Cheneaux.
— For the first time since my appointment as a member of the Kentucky Bicycle and Bikeway Commission, our advisory group was granted a consultation with the Secretary of the Transportation Cabinet. Although we prepared for the meeting with some trepidation about how we would be “handled,” the session went about as well as could be hoped for, given the agency’s history of resistance to bicyclist accommodations. People with long experience in Frankfort view it as a “government within a government,” and our own relations with the Cabinet has been strained, due to our independent spirit, frank recommendations, and candor with the constituencies we are mandated to represent. On top of that, the key position of Bicycle/Pedestrian Coordinator has been vacant since January, and we’ve made no secret of our opposition to any plan to downgrade the job description. I was encouraged by the Secretary’s open-minded attitude and the clear indication that this Administration is beginning to view bicycling as a meaningful component of their strategic priorities for economic competitiveness, health improvement, and tourism promotion. I must admit that, after last year’s election, I’ve struggled to remain hopeful about Kentucky pulling itself out of the bottom ten percent of bicycle friendly states, but on Tuesday I became more optimistic about these new folks running state government. I don’t agree with them on many issues, but they just might be coming around on something close to my heart.
— Ely Dixon is back from Africa, of course, but I’ve decided to leave her blog among my links. Cousin Dan is sharing this Web video summarizing her time in Tanzania. He warns, “The video quality is spotty at times.”
— The only time I witnessed Jon Brasfield in performance, I think I was more focused on waiting for a Brendan bongo solo that never transpired. Later, I came to appreciate Jon’s abilities as a musician, especially after listening to Ghost Town for the first time. Over the past week, my regard for him and his mate Amanda has gone totally off the scale. If you haven’t been following The Saga of Baby Jude, you’ve been missing what has to be one of the most phenomenal feats of blogger poise ever.
V & S
Posted in Blogging, Brendan, Exercise, Music, Political Affairs, Public Service | No Comments »
Monday, June 9th, 2008
Well, Brendan has finally gone and done it. He’s found a way to combine most of his favorite talents—music, satirical writing, cartooning, comedic performance, creative collaboration, and your basic web magic. The end product of this fusion? An outrageous repository of droll hilarity known as The Children’s Hour of Knowledge. The site is co-produced with Stephen Heintz, and so far, it has two episodes. I haven’t heard anything quite like this since I listened to “I Think We’re All Bozos on This Bus” by The Firesign Theatre. (And that was 36 years ago—around the time I first started to make landmark journal entries just like this!). Go listen for yourself. Perhaps the best way to end this post is with an excerpt from my nephew’s biographical blurb: “In a perfect world, Brendan would be swiftly hunted down by those determined to keep it that way.”
Posted in Blogging, Brendan, Creativity, Family, Music, Personalities, Theatre, Time | Comments Closed
Saturday, June 7th, 2008
— Month of May workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-5; Run-1; Lift-2; Yoga-0; Pilates-1; Lupus Drills-2
— When a boy makes his uncertain journey toward manhood, he will never forget the famous beauties that adorned his itinerary:
Charmian Carr — Connie Stevens — Donna Mills — Peggy Fleming
Diana Hyland — France Nuyen — Madlyn Rhue — Barbara Bain
Janet Leigh — Barbara Hershey — Julie Christie — Natalie Wood
— After nearly a month away from the weights, I found myself back in the gym yesterday, hoping to get my fitness regimen into balance. Hearing a Roberta Flack tune always gets me thinking of college days.
Back in 1971, one of my earliest journal entries was about taking a date to see Play Misty For Me. The experience forever solidified my appreciation of Clint Eastwood as a cool dude, and I now regard that motion picture as the beginning of how he used his Dirty Harry appeal to negotiate with Warner Brothers a series of opportunities that would enable him to became one of the most extraordinary filmmakers of our time. If, like me, you have any libertarian leanings at all, you really have to admire a guy like Clint. He’s never been afraid to express his disdain for political correctness or those who shamelessly traffic in it.
— Not that there’s any reason for you to remember, but last summer I daydreamed in this space about my hope that a boyhood idol would eventually return to Central Kentucky (not as a mere beau, but as a performer). Needless to say, I’m thrilled to learn that my wish is granted.
Johnny Crawford is best known for playing Mark McCain on “The Rifleman” from 1958 to 1963. Unlike today, it was a time when the quality of the typical child actor in Hollywood would raise the mental question, “Whose powerful uncle pulled strings with the producer?” Crawford was one of a handful of young television performers—Patty Duke, Ron Howard, Tim Considine, Kurt Russell—that were cast for their obvious talent. Throughout his run on the popular series, he not only held his own impressively with star Chuck Connors, but opposite a constellation of entertainment heavyweights, including Dennis Hopper, John Carradine, Martin Landau, Kevin McCarthy, Sammy Davis Jr., Buddy Hackett, Warren Oates, and Michael Landon. Trite as it sounds—those were the days. The tube was small, but the icons were huge.
— The passing of Jim McKay makes me think of so many entertaining Saturday afternoons in the 60s, as we experienced the infancy of sports-casting through his distinctive coverage. A decade later, any of us who were watching in 1976 will always remember his marathon reporting from Munich, when his place in the history of television was secured. McKay and the late Roone Arlidge surely redefined the medium during those years, and, ever since, I’ve been as equally fascinated by the technology and professionalism of sports broadcasting as I’ve been with what happens before the cameras in a venue of competition. So far, 2008 has been a great year for upsets—beginning with an exciting Super Bowl, and on through another horse racing saga that culminated dramatically today. Zito has firmly established himself as the preeminent crusher of Triple Crown dreams—a class act, in contrast to the trainer of Big Brown, who, with his arrogant posturing, disqualified himself for much sympathy. Instead of partying with Trump in Manhattan, he’ll be, as Marty put it, “just another sweaty guy in a horse stall” tonight. On the other hand, one has to feel sorrow for the Kent D family and be concerned for the talented stallion himself. Yes, there’s only one compound phrase for it: The thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat. Let the summer games begin!
V & S
Posted in Blogging, Current Events, Death, Exercise, History, Marty, Movies, Personalities, Sport, Technology, Television | Comments Closed
Sunday, April 27th, 2008
I know I haven’t been writing much lately, but I recently promised myself that if I couldn’t dwell on positive things, then I best not record anything at all in this space. Although that may seem to indicate my prevailing mood, good developments continue to unfold. It is necessary to remain focused on practical goals. Each day sees progress on multiple fronts, even in the face of adversity. Extra time spent at the Blue Bank Farm, working on the stone flue, allowed me to overcome the deficiencies of my extended learning curve. Now I know I can complete the masonry job this summer according to my original vision. I helped produce a successful annual dinner for The Salvation Army, which fulfills a major volunteer commitment. Although I cut back on my involvement with the Brass Band Festival this year, I felt obligated to complete the poster series I started in 2005. That should be wrapped up soon, which clears the deck a bit more in favor of a greater commercial workload. Yesterday I woke up with a solution to the Town House storm water drainage problems that have bedeviled me for years. I’m reading Dr. Dyer’s book on learning to live one’s imagined life. Creating the prerequisite balance is a daily challenge that I can surely meet, but only through the relentless re-alignment of my inner thoughts and awareness, and I’m convinced that I shall do that only by truly accepting the all-sufficiency of God’s love.
Far away in the sunshine are my highest inspirations.
I may not reach them, but I can look up and see the beauty,
believe in them and try to follow where they lead. . . .
—Louisa May Alcott
Posted in Blogging, Business, Community, Craftsmanship, Personalities, Verse, Words | No Comments »
Monday, April 14th, 2008
— As a kid, I think I first heard about Rube Goldberg from Mombo, and, although I never investigated his career in detail, he became another piece of supporting evidence with which I built the notion that I could grow up to be a cartoonist. The other day I was talking to a friend and fellow advisory board member at The Salvation Army HQ and learned he’d just attended the Rube Goldberg Machine Contest at Purdue University, where his grandson is an engineering student. Relying on their solid “home court advantage,” the Purdue team kept the prize at home for the third time in the last four years. My cousin Joe’s daughter, Michelle, goes to school at Purdue, but I’ve never asked him about her area of concentration.
— Watchmen is without a doubt the most satisfying “comic book” I’ve encountered since Joan and I discovered the story of “Superman-Red and Superman-Blue” at Pam and Lori’s house back in the 1960s. To call it a comic book will be off-target for those unfamiliar with the Hugo Award winning publication, which TIME Magazine included in its 2005 list of “the 100 best English-language novels from 1923 to the present.” When Brendan found out I’d never seen it, he dropped off a copy during his cross-country road trip. Thanks, NB. You know what I like.
— In less than a month, my level of inner peace, tenuous at best in this stage of life, was shaken twice. First I learned about my Godfather’s death in Ohio, which brought a deep sense of personal loss. I looked over some of his characteristic letters about dogs and gardening and things, traveling north with Dana to represent my Clan at a family service in St. Marys. Then came the aftershock news of Charlton Heston’s demise, a different kind of sadness, having of my own volition attached my spirit to his particular brand of patriotism many years ago. I took comfort in reading again the short letter he sent me around the time of his last public announcement. It was a personal note of appreciation for my having mailed him, over a period of years, a series of handmade birthday greetings. Greater consolation came in a message from my own Godson about my Uncle Don, and the statements Nic and his brother Seth made at Facebook about their regard for Mr. Heston, including recollections of meeting him with some of us who attended his book signing in Lexington. It was heartening to know that men of the next generation will value his enduring contribution to safeguarding the array of civil liberties we enjoy as Americans. Two resolutions honoring Mr. Heston—H.Res. 1091 by Congressman Don Young (R-AK), and S.Res. 512 by Senator Jim DeMint (R-SC)—were introduced this week in the two houses of Congress.
— Joan’s blogging has set a recent standard that can only be described as outstanding, and I need to regain my rhythm. Much to report about events in March and my current activities, but the emphasis remains with daily efforts to spin straw into gold. A life engaged in hustling after the next buck just seems to be the governing principle, or, as Mombo used to say when I rubbed the morning “sleepers” from my eyes:
Another day; another dollar…
V & S
Posted in Blogging, Brendan, Business, Dana, Death, Education, Family, Fiction, Joan, Mombo, Personalities, Political Affairs, Public Service, Technology | No Comments »
Saturday, March 1st, 2008
My log is currently suspended for the annual March Experiment.
— Month of February workout totals: Swim-3; Bike-2; Run-3; Lift-2; Yoga-0; Pilates-3; Lupus-1
— If I accomplish nothing else over the next 30 days, I must find “the means.” I won’t try to define exactly what that means (hey, is that a pun?), but most of you know what I’m talking about. It can look like ferocity, but mere ferocity is no match for the kind of unrelenting competitive intensity that Uncle Don held out as mark of the victorious spirit. Well, maybe I did just define it. All I know right now is that I need to regain the source of it, and the man who coined the term is in the hospital and probably dying. He is my Godfather, and from him I inherit the challenge of “the means.” James and I were talking about him this morning when we accompanied Joan to inspect Joe’s Riverland. It was a wonderful outing that combined the gentle Lamb of March and memories of our lost Clansmen with an enduring camaraderie that is too rarely enjoyed (and I don’t mean scarce, but rare). I’m so glad we did it.
— Speaking of Joan: she uncovered this NPR feature that makes me think we might have been among the last of the “Oldenday Players.” This closing thought sums up the sad, ironic state of current affairs:
…in the rush to give children every advantage—to protect them, to stimulate them, to enrich them—our culture has unwittingly compromised one of the activities that helped children most. All that wasted time was not such a waste after all.
— Wow, did I ever miss the mark at the end of January when I failed to predict that the majority of Democrats were finally ready to kick their Clinton habit! Rather than Senator Obama’s campaign suffering from too many losses in too many states, it appears that the exact reverse has taken place, and now Hillary faces the need to complete an urgent end-zone bomb to stay in contention. Too bad that more conservative Republicans didn’t rally to Romney sooner and offer to the nation the kind of clear ideological choice that a Barack-vs-Mitt face-off would provide.
— Dadbo once gave us an item of firm advice: never work through a general contractor. He learned that lesson the hard way when he and Mombo built our house on the Shoop Road lot. The truth of his warning was born out last week by my experience with one of our clients who’s completing a new dental office. Due to the construction manager’s faulty information and his cover-my-butt attitude, what could have been a perfectly handsome interior wall treatment will fall short of what we worked to achieve on our client’s behalf. It makes me wonder how many other compromises they were forced to swallow in order to get the doors open on time. But maybe I’m missing the whole point—they did what they needed to do to achieve a massive relocation, with a net gain of significant improvement. What’s wrong with me? Done is better than perfect!
— On Saturday, March 8th, the Community Arts Center will hold its annual benefit and live art auction. According to the Center’s promotional material, the artwork is from some of the area’s top artists, and I can’t disagree with that, even if the list includes your humble correspondent. The online photo gallery offers sneak previews of artwork that will be on the block, and they did a good job of putting together that feature for the Website. The mixed-media collage I donated, Then Sings My Soul, was created nearly a year ago for KOSMOS: Discovery and Disclosure.
— Go back another year to the first March-X and that’s when I helped organize some local cyclists that would form the B.I.K.E. | Boyle County group. On March 11th, the local organization devoted to cleaning up and preserving Clark’s Run (C.R.E.E.C.) will host a community forum that will focus on trails and greenways. B.I.K.E. has not only promoted the idea of safer, more bicycle-friendly streets and roads in Boyle County, but has always hoped to collaborate with community partners as a catalyst for planning a network of shared-use byways and connecting trails.
Yesterday I finished a draft of our comprehensive recommendations to kick-start the development of a community master plan that envisions much more than the construction of a few off-street recreational trails. The process will take leadership, commitment, and years of effort. Available funding will go to the localities which combine a strategic vision with constituent support. It’s a challenging goal, but many places have already done it. Some of you know that from your travels and vacations. Those communities improved the quality of life for their populations and, at the same time, attracted visitors, new residents, and employers. Can we do it here? Stay tuned. Bye, everybody!
For the despondent, every day brings trouble;
for the happy heart, life is a continual feast.
—Proverbs 15:15 (New Living Translation)
V & S
Posted in Angst, Art, Blogging, Business, Community, Craftsmanship, Current Events, Dadbo, Exercise, Friends, James, Joan, Mombo, Nature, Playtime, Political Affairs, Presidency, Scripture, Studio | No Comments »
Friday, February 29th, 2008
I think I’ve accepted that happiness is not a state, but an event that should be savored each time it occurs. May we all be blessed with many regular occurrences, and learn how to pursue their arrival.
Kyle is right, and probably Caitlan knows it deep within, but part of coming to terms with that eternal “kk dilemma” is understanding that we aren’t called to perfect ourselves with a single endeavor or cycle of accomplishment. It’s more about the will to strive—and the steady commitment to a more difficult path—than it is the measure of any product at intervals along the way.
There’s one thing this graybeard has learned—the key is Balance. But, as I’ve so often stated, “Easier said than done.”
I recall a time in my own studies when I received the second of my two most treasured letters from Dadbo. The first was when I was an adolescent, but this second note was in response to my angst at the tremendous rigor of my undergraduate program. I could dig out the correspondence and include a quotation, but I won’t. In some ways, the message that sticks with me now (and always) remains more profound. He took time to reinforce for me the old wisdom of “all work and no play.” It was a lesson about Balance—a lesson that he was still learning at an age (then) that was a bit less than mine (now). Within a relatively short time, he would suffer his first heart attack. Easier said than done.
Nobody worth listening to will tell us the journey toward balanced self-refinement is an easy one. I’ve had my periods of 60-to-70-hour work weeks, as well as my indulgent—and ultimately pointless—excursions into doubt, fear, and denial. I guess it’s part of the terrain, or it was for me. Sometimes there is no discernible outward difference between compulsive depletion and focused commitment, or between apathetic procrastination and therapeutic relaxation. I hate to admit it, but it’s not always inwardly apparent either, although it usually is. The conscience is rarely fooled. Nevertheless, the intuition of the heart is not always equipped to pinpoint the nature of its discomfort, and can only signal that something doesn’t feel right. We must continue to train our faculties of spirit and intellect to solve the puzzle of personal destiny. And, take it from me—the whole thing can still look like a miserable mess without the proper physical component. It’s quite amazing how a brisk walk, a long bicycle ride, or a mile in the pool can provide a fresh perspective on most troubling situations (not to mention the value of sound nutrition and a good night’s rest).
My mind is running this course in part because I’m using Leap Day to prepare for a third annual March Experiment. I’ve decided to pull away from the online journal to enable a more sustained level of active concentration. Whatever can be temporarily set aside for intensified focus needs to be put on hold during the exercise. I’m beginning to get excited about it, feeling the positive anticipation that comes with diving into the regimen, much like putting on the wet suit for a Lake Huron swim, realizing it will be cold, but concerned more with the determination it will take, after the initial plunge and past the inevitable yelling of an underwater “fuck,” to gain the efficient forward momentum required to cross the channel safely, with no thought for my turning back, because mental defeat is unthinkable—no obstacles exist but the outworn patterns of consciousness.
Nothing is impossible to the man who can will.
—Mirabeau
Posted in Angst, Blogging, Caitlan, Dadbo, Education, Exercise, Priorities, Psychology, Words | No Comments »
Tuesday, January 1st, 2008
— Month of December workout totals: Swim-2; Bike-2; Run-3; Lift-3; Yoga-8; Pilates-2
— Year of 2007 workout totals: Swim-23; Bike-58; Run-25; Lift-33; Yoga-21; Pilates-16
— This is the 70th installment of a series that has no meaning, other than it precludes me from using the word “sundry” within any other post. I was part of the Class of ’70 when I finished high school, and the seven has always been significant for me, since it’s my destiny number. This is the 763rd entry in this journal, which is a seven, since numbers always reduce to the single-digit sum for numerological analysis. For me, this is also the first day of a new year governed by the number seven. Other practitioners of numerology have marveled at the fact that Dana and I share the same annual number—not rare, but somewhat uncommon for married partners.
— The recent violent unrest in Kenya has provided days of concern for Dan and Sheryl’s Elizabeth, but word has arrived from Neil that she and her group are safe. It will be good to hear from her directly, and hopefully that will happen soon.
— I completed a twelfth work in my series of “Grandy-bo Variations,” but I won’t be including another in the current format for our Christmas exchange, because, for the past two years, my painting has ended up in the hands of a household that already had a “G-bo.” I’ve got to think of a better way to disseminate new pieces to those who haven’t received one, or switch to a medium that accommodates limited-edition printmaking for wider distribution.
(Variations on a Theme by
Grandy-bo, Part Eleven)
— NBC lives up to its reputation for prematurely yanking some of the best dramas on TV. In the spirit of keeping profanity to a minimum at this site, I’ll let another blogger express my profound dismay.
— During my recent morgue reorganization, I came across a post card written by Dana’s father in 1932 to his younger brother. Clearly, it was one of those items we’d rescued from a spasm of “movin’ madness,” before Aunt Marian and Uncle Dick gave up their home in Dayton and moved to San Diego. The card is from the Art Institute of Chicago and depicts a Vermont landscape Rockwell Kent painted in 1921— Mount Equinox, Winter. Almost twenty years after coming into our possession, neither of us remembers how it ended up in the reference files, but we both deemed it too valuable to exclude from the family archives. I put it on the scanner earlier today, never imagining that tonight we’d stumble upon Part One of the PBS documentary about Kent that I missed seeing earlier this year. Familiar with his work as a book illustrator and wood engraver, I knew little about his paintings, nor did I have a coherent appreciation for his life as an artist and adventurer. The man certainly had his flaws (addicted to infidelity and cruel practical jokes), but, Good Lord, what an amazingly prolific creative genius!
— Well, I’d better quit. Tomorrow begins a new cycle of productivity, and 2008 should be a great year. Nic and Michelle will marry, Marty will begin to drive, Peat will finish her degree, Bruce will get a place of his own, Brendan will publish his book, and the “Bay-bo Gril” will make her way to Yorkshire Estate. Follow it all here at Uncle John’s!
V & S
Posted in Art, Blogging, Brendan, Bruce, Current Events, Dadbo, Dana, Exercise, Family, Holidays, Marty, Nic, Numbers, Personalities, Television | Comments Closed
Saturday, December 22nd, 2007
Dana recently prescribed an in-house faucet replacement, and today was the deadline.
In 1922, the Town House was a very modern residence. Featuring four bathrooms, it was meant undoubtedly to be a showcase for indoor plumbing. Fast forward to 2007, and now we face dealing with four sets of 85-year-old pipes, valves, and fixtures. Although we both detest it, Bruce has more patience when it comes to tackling this sort of thing than I do. “Kicking and screaming” barely does justice to my attitude.
Plumbing for new construction is a trade I can somewhat comprehend. On the other hand, there’s a guy out there who we almost had to call—the kind of guy who would willingly crawl under the sink of a house built when Warren G. Harding was president.
On the Saturday before Christmas.
For money.
We all recognize, humorously, that there’s a bit of the exhibitionist in most plumbers, but what kind of freakin’ masochist would make his living repairing plumbing in old houses? (Brendan might have used some variant of fuck, but, trust me, I would never allow a word like that to appear in my blog.)
A beautiful basin with a big pitcher of water—not a bad notion of civilized living—until some twisted devil invented threaded pipes and called it progress.
Posted in Angst, Blogging, Brendan, Bruce, Dana, Family, Home, Presidency | Comments Closed
Sunday, December 9th, 2007
— Each time this year I’ve run the 5+ miles back downtown from the cabin, the time has felt shorter, even though I’m running pretty slowly these days. The silence transpired more quickly for me this morning, too. Milton handed out his periodic survey to the group, and I discovered a 1961 Horizon in Mack’s studio that had an interview with Andrew Wyeth, famous at the time, and now the greatest living American painter. I’ll have to digest the whole article during another visit, but I was able to scan a few stimulating quotations, and then Sara Jane offered me a new commission, with the freedom to interpret a photographic image with my choice of style—the perfect assignment. Everything conspired to boost my motivation to aggressively advance the Brady and Eckerle projects, plus my fine-arts enterprise in general. I couldn’t think about anything else as I ran home. So, why am I sitting here with this log entry?
— Cliff and I had a conversation about blogging the other day and it got me thinking about my string of 616 or 617 consecutive posts, and how important making daily entries used to seem. Brendan still refers to this site as a daily journal, but that hasn’t been true for well over a year. Once again, time is malleable, and, as Arnold has said, there’s adequate time each day for everything meaningful enough to do. Blogging isn’t about the time, but about having something worth saying to yourself, maybe worth recording, possibly worth sharing. I eventually figured out that doesn’t happen every day. When it does, not much time is required to get it down.
— Terie and Marty bought the M:I:3 DVD and left it at our house, so, late last night, I watched the J.J. Abrams picture for the second time, and I liked it a bit more this time around. I think Tom Cruise is the Burt Lancaster of his generation. Regardless of what I might think of his personal life, his work product demands respect. (Hey, not all celebrities can be a James Stewart or Charlton Heston; Lance Armstrong falls into the same category.) If Cruise had not become an actor, he would surely have been an Olympic or professional athlete in some discipline. He has the mentality and natural capacity for high-performance physical achievement. Although one of the least flamboyant stunts, his Chinese-village tile-roof footwork is probably the riskiest choreography in the movie. As I’ve declared before, I think he squandered the full potential of the classic franchise and put its longevity at risk, but this sequel is the best of the lot, the most team-oriented, and it fits nicely into our ancient family idea of an M:I Saga Series. In my opinion, Abrams is a creative, meticulous director with a feel for the spy genre compatible to Mission: Impossible—Cruise certainly can’t be faulted with his selection—but Abrams will need to have further honed his story-telling skills to do justice to his upcoming Star Trek feature, another Desilu-originated concept from the “silver age” of television.
— Local historian, R.C. Brown, is dead at 90. He once saluted me on a Danville street as, “Mr. Dixon, the Spin Doctor!” We often held different political perspectives, but shared a fascination with local heritage. I recruited him in 1991 to expound before a camera, as part of a fundraising documentary (the same program in which we cast Alyx as a child actress). He was in his 70s then, and I was young enough to think I might have a future directing videos (as close as I got to being Ken Burns when I grew up). Brown was the doctor, not me. He was from Ohio, too, but went on to get a Ph.D. from the University of Wisconsin. He taught history at Buffalo State College for 28 years. When he retired to our area, he rapidly became an authority and wrote The History of Danville and Boyle County. I’ll always believe that Professor Brown respected me as a talent, even though I consider his remark shaded by a mild one-upmanship. Perhaps he did understand better than most the true nature of my commercial craft, but I hope he wasn’t thinking of Victor Papanek’s quotation:
“In persuading people to buy things they don’t need, with money they don’t have, in order to impress others that don’t care, advertising is probably the phoniest field in existence today.”
I prefer this one:
“The only important thing about design is how it relates to people.”
— Thomas Bewick, my newest hero, couldn’t escape the ongoing necessity of making money with “coarse work” (as his daughter called it), despite his artistic reputation and unmatched skill as a wood engraver. I wanted to return the library book and avoid fines, but couldn’t help myself, and finished the biography by Jenny Uglow this week. As I said previously, learning more about his life has reinforced for me the notion that, although everything changes on outward levels, nothing really changes in the human dynamics of making a living as an independent, creative craftsman. I was notably saddened when I learned that he never fulfilled his dream of having the cottage workshop close to nature described in his memoir:
“The artist ought if possible to have his dwelling in the country where he could follow his business undisturbed, surrounded by pleasing rural scenery & the fresh air and as ‘all work & no play, makes Jack a dull Boy,’ he ought not to sit at it, too long at a time, but to unbend his mind with some variety of employment — for which purpose, it is desireable, that Artists, with their little Cots, should also have each a Garden attached in which they might find both exercise & amusement — and only occasionally visit the City or the smokey Town & that chiefly for the purpose of meetings with their Brother Artists.”
Dana reminded me that we all tend to get what we desire if we want it badly enough.
V & S
Posted in Art, Blogging, Brendan, Business, Cliff, Community, Craftsmanship, Dana, Death, Education, Exercise, Family, Friends, Gardening, History, Marty, Movies, Nature, Nonfiction, Personalities, Priorities, Sport, Studio, Television, Terie, Time, Words | Comments Closed
Monday, November 19th, 2007
• What’s the latest news from Ian? Be there. Aloha!
• Two dozen years of Godfatherhood. Happy 24th Birthday to Nic. This lad is on a roll.
• Can Brendan’s The Diamond Saga be condensed to 101 words?
• Cole didn’t get his “Space Monkey” greetings from me on November 7th this year. That, dear readers, is how mired in torpidity Uncle John’s Haus of Cards has become.
Posted in Art, Birthdays, Blogging, Brendan, Family, Fiction, Ian, Words | No Comments »
Friday, August 3rd, 2007
— Month of July workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-6; Run-1; Lift-4; Yoga-2
— When stupid costs only time and money, while highlighting the blessings of friendship—clearly there are much worse blunders one can make. This is the moral of Brendan’s story. (I’ll be damned if that young man can’t write a superb blog entry!)
— Big Sis is in happyland with all kiddoes stateside, and many good things are happenin’ all around the Clan. I dug out a 1997 Hi-8 tape for Seth’s secret project and made the hand-off in Liberty this morning after a biz meeting at City Hall. Look out. The Medicine Woman gave Old Graybeard a haircut and he’s building an opera house where the mule skinner’s shack used to sit…
— My profile in Arts Across Kentucky is about to hit the street, so I’m frantically trying to finish a major revision to the Dixon Design Website. Whenever I’ve looked the site over, all I’ve wanted to do is scrap it and start over, but I’ve convinced myself that the smart thing to do in the interim is to build on what I’ve already got, until the urge to take a busman’s holiday overwhelms me. (No hotlinks today—rest that click-finger until my newest pages are live.)
— Well, two-wheeler fans, my favorite cyclists (both former world mountain-bike champions) came within seconds of winning the big one, but young Alberto held them off. None of them will get the credit due, given the fact that this Tour will be remembered only for those who dishonored the sport. Ok, enough for this year. You already know what I think about it… Shameless dog-fighters, a crooked ref, and lying, juiced-up sluggers… What pro sport can measure up these days? I even saw the Golden Bear on TV responding to questions about performance-enhancers in golf. Sheesh!
V & S
Posted in Blogging, Brendan, Business, Exercise, Family, Sport, Studio, Television | Comments Closed
Thursday, July 19th, 2007
Brandon (not Brendan)
— Brandon mentioned me in his CAC Director’s Blog, so I seized my opportunity to yap a bit about Kurt Schwitters. I appreciate the job Brandon is doing here in Downtown Danville and I like him a lot—not because he really does understand collage, but because he’s just cool. Many moons ago, I taught a Saturday art class for children in Willmette called WeakEnds. The center there was managed by someone Joan introduced me to, a young guy named George, who was probably about the same age Brandon is now. I thought George was cool, too.
Where’s the buzz?
— Pretending like I know how to juggle, I do my best to keep as many balls as possible in the air at all times. This means continuing to promote cycling on a local, regional, and state-wide level (painfully aware that it has nothing to do with earning a living). In addition to circulating our KBBC Recommendations for 2007, I made public remarks at a local hearing before the Planning and Zoning Commission, as they prepare to adopt an updated Comprehensive Plan. I also followed up with written material to their director. To keep the community in step with emerging trends, and to boost opportunities for grants and development funding, the comp-plan requires stronger language to acknowledge the future needs of bicyclists, walkers, runners, and multi-modal users. I was told that my recommended language to beef up the transportation section has been included in the revised draft. I also used the WordPress site to set up a public forum for local advocates called B.I.K.E. buzz. It’s intended as a space to promote new ideas and stimulate communication within our community of cycling enthusiasts. So far, nobody else has made comments or posted any topics for discussion.
Brendan (not Brandon)
— Although I was a reader of Anacrusis from the beginning, I understood how great an admirer of Brendan’s prose I’d become by the end of December, 2005. Now, as a devoted follower of his remarkable site, I can witness to the progressive improvement that’s taken place over hundreds of constrained exercises. Like a literary bodybuilder, he can flex this or that and make it look too easy—make you forget the 1000+ trips to the weight room. That’s why The Implicit (a long way from The Explicit) is such a huge deal, and why I’m flattered about my small contribution to the celebration. Don’t stop. They say it all turns to flab if you stop…
Speaking of good writers…
— I feel like I’m in the middle of something much bigger than I can fully comprehend. Being asked by Gray to illustrate a Manning poem without realizing who he was or that he’d grown up in Danville. Having his mother stop me on the street and awkwardly admitting to her I hadn’t read the book of verse that won his prize from Yale. Finding myself immersed in his vivid literary visions while knowing that my deadline was looming, the remaining time relentlessly ticking away. But, on the other hand, I know things are going to work out. Engraving wood has never been about labor or struggle. It’s always been about convincing myself to trust in the outcome. Acknowledging to myself that everything I’ve learned about the essence of graphic interpretation will find its own way to fruition when I make that first mark…
V & S
Posted in Art, Blogging, Brendan, Community, Creativity, Exercise, Family, Fiction, Friends, Joan, Personalities, Public Service, Time, Verse, Words | Comments Closed
Sunday, July 1st, 2007
— Month of June workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-11; Run-0; Lift-0; Yoga-0
— Easy to see that cycling is providing my only form of exercise these days, and I need to figure out what it will take to jump start my typical cross-training. In any case, I find myself thinking all the time about when I’ll saddle up for my next ride. In this part of the country, the lack of rain is creating a serious condition, but it’s made for some superb cycling weather this season, and I’m digging it. Speaking of digging, Marty and I removed another big section of old driveway at the Town House today and hauled it off in rusty Ned. I’m worn out, because six of us local cyclists went to Frankfort yesterday for the second annual Share the Road Ride and Rally. We completed a 53-mile loop through Woodford County, and the roads going in and out of Midway are the most scenic I’ve ever enjoyed on a bicycle. Talk about the heart of the Bluegrass! Just being there gave me the second wind I needed to log my new maximum single-ride mileage for the year (I’m ready for a 60-miler now). We arrived back at the Old Capitol in time for the noon rally. As the only Bike Commissioner there in riding attire, someone suggested I stand in front of a TV camera and say something. It was incoherent enough that I hope they never use it. As many know, I’m more of a rambler than a sound-bite guy when it comes to talking about “all things bicycle.”
— After a busy second quarter (with my solo exhibition, but on many levels), I’ve been looking forward to a “time out” over the next week or so. I need to be unavailable enough to get some things done that have been on the back-burner for way too long, such as finishing the reorganization of the conference room and popping the bonnet on my Mac G4 for a vital overhaul. This kind of a thing always sounds like a good idea until the target date is here. In my experience, clients are much better at taking a break than permitting us to do the same. We’ve wanted for some time to become “indispensable” again, so it will behoove us to stay accessible, but there are things I just have to do to prepare for when we are truly swamped again, and it’s only a matter of time. The Liberty/Casey account is picking up steam, the floodgate could open at any time with the new automotive client, and things are going well with the organic farm. The owners met with Whole Foods last week and picked up more orders for their organic meats, which triggers a need for new packaging graphics. The pendulum is swinging back for Dixon Design, and I must prepare our physical and virtual environment to cope with a heavier flow of business.
— Decades before the blogging culture became a fact of life, E. B. White wrote an introduction to a volume of his selected essays. For anyone who justifies writing words in a public log, his thoughts about the essayist are valuable reading. Most of us who carry on like this have no idea what we’re doing. White, by contrast, had no illusions about the nature of the format he mastered, and nearly all of us who excessively talk about ourselves in thousands of blogs (millions?) would benefit by taking his words to heart and by applying them to our peculiar practice.
The essayist is a self-liberated man, sustained by the childish belief that everything he thinks about, everything that happens to him, is of general interest… Only a person who is congenitally self-centered has the effrontery and the stamina to write essays… The essayist arises in the morning and, if he has work to do, selects his garb from an unusually extensive wardrobe: he can pull on any sort of shirt, be any sort of person, according to his mood or his subject matter—philosopher, scold, jester, raconteur, confidant, pundit, devil’s advocate, enthusiast… leave the essayist to ramble about, content with living a free life and enjoying the satisfactions of a somewhat undisciplined existence. (Dr. Johnson called the essay “an irregular, undigested piece”; this happy practitioner has no wish to quarrel with the good doctor’s characterization.) There is one thing the essayist cannot do, though—he cannot indulge himself in deceit or in concealment, for he will be found out in no time… the essayist’s escape from discipline is only a partial escape: the essay, although a relaxed form, imposes its own disciplines, raises its own problems, and these disciplines and problems soon become apparent and (we all hope) act as deterrent to anyone wielding a pen merely because he entertains random thoughts or is in a happy or wandering mood.
— Jennifer B has a squirrel in her knickers about an insignificant reunion of entertainers. Well, there’s only one significant reunion that could get me excited, because I’m old enough to remember the Original Spice Girl…
V & S
Posted in Art, Blogging, Business, Exercise, Family, Friends, Marty, Nonfiction, Personalities, Public Service, Studio, Television, Words | Comments Closed
Thursday, June 14th, 2007
part two
I know I have a very selective memory. That’s probably both a good and a bad thing. On the one hand, it’s not difficult for me to put unpleasant things out of mind. On the other hand, it’s not difficult for me to put just about anything out of mind. Dana thinks that I have a propensity to make things up in order to compensate for a memory bank like Swiss cheese. It’s not that simple actually. All my memories seem valid to me, even the ones that apparently never happened. And when stressful things occur like what took place last Friday—thinking we’d lost Walie before she turned up at the animal shelter—it gets flushed almost instinctively. Joan’s recent mention of it at her MO-JO site took me by surprise. Apparently I forget things really fast! That’s why journaling comes so naturally for me. I’ve relied on it my entire adult life as a back-up memory. I believe I get it from Mombo, an incurable chronicle-keeper, too. That’s not to say I tend to forget my emotions in the same manner. I struggle at times to figure out why I’m in a sour mood. I can’t recall the negative stimulus, but “forgot” to jettison the associated emotion at the same time. Pretty strange. I won’t even begin to go into discussing my dreams. That’s another story and big waste of time. And so why am I rambling on about this? Just preparing to recollect some things worth remembering from the last week, but, as I said yesterday, I failed to make any notes. Just about the only fearful aspect of blogging is knowing this about myself and realizing I might be leaving important things out—not because they have any true significance in the grand scheme, but because someone who follows this log may find the omission hurtful.
• Festival Saturday
Saturday started early at the Town House. As Dana continued to work away at picnic preparations, I planted flowers and did the annual June clean-up outside. As usual, it caused me to think of “raking the tackle-pits at dawn,” and other narrative allusions to The Legend. That’s just typical me. We were able to take a break for the Atlanta Trumpet Ensemble at the Courthouse bandstand before it was time to mount our picnic table set-up in front of the main stage. In addition to Terie and Marty, David and Lee joined us, plus the family of our new clients, John and Vi. Guest artist Phil Smith was absolutely extraordinary, and both Vince and George were inducted into the GABBF Hall of Fame, the Festival’s highest honor. After all these years of having a table, we continued to score a superb central position near the stage, but this time the amplification seemed a bit too much. I don’t remember being bothered about the volume in the past (oh, let’s not revisit that memory thing again), but we put up with it until the last act. Joan was out and about and she came to the table later for a glass of vino, but, before that, we saw each other at the marketplace tent. I was disappointed to discover that the gold pins had already sold out. Now, due to my procrastination, I’d have to wait for a re-order.
• Morning Bike Ride
Sunday morning arrived quickly and I was the first to show up at Danville Bike and Footwear to greet participants in the first Brass Band Festival bicycle ride. I was eager to see if my new idea would bear some some fruit. Two out-of-town couples brought their bikes for the advertised ride and we had a decent turnout of locals for what will be remembered as the inaugural event. After an hour or so in the countryside, we rolled to Centre’s campus for the traditional Community Worship Service. The weather was perfect. How many communities in America can produce such a high-level music festival, keep all the concerts free of charge, and include an out-of-doors, music-filled, ecumenical church service, too? It still astonishes me. Afterwards, I made my way over to the marketplace and learned that a few unsold pins had surfaced overnight. Slipping my pal Harlan a five, I managed to get an example of my 2007 design and keep the pin collection up to date.
• Festival Sunday
After all the energy of the previous days and a successful bike ride under my belt, I was at the point in the Festival when I could just take it easy and enjoy the music. Sunday afternoon on the grass might be my favorite part of the annual weekend, and I couldn’t wait for it. Dana, Lee, and I put together a simple picnic of leftovers and toasted the day with a cold Stella before heading over to campus for the final hours of glorious sound. As usual, I kicked back with my shoes off and my pin-hat down over my eyes, drifting in and out of a lazy nap while the bands played. When favorite soloists came forward, I grabbed our camera and hugged the front of the stage like it was my personal work zone. The satisfying musical peaks of Festival Sunday convince me that all my hours of studio effort over the months are worth it. Multiply that by hundreds of other volunteers and you’ll begin to understand how this event has thrived for 18 years and shows no signs of doing anything but solidifying as one of Kentucky’s summer highlights.
Posted in Angst, Art, Blogging, Community, Dana, Exercise, Family, Food, Friends, Joan, Marty, Mombo, Music, Psychology, Terie, Wine | Comments Closed
Wednesday, June 13th, 2007
part one
I had all these thoughts and recollections coming out of a landmark Band Festival weekend, but once things got rolling in the studio on Monday, I didn’t take time to write them down. Plus, I’m always prepared to devote some of my blogging time to a new Paul Watkins novel, and I’ve started reading The Promise of Light, thanks to a Kentucky Interlibrary Loan (KILL—how’s that for an acronym?). Well, I’ll give it a try anyway…
• WineFest
For the first time, the Festival sponsored an event that gathered representatives from nine Kentucky wineries on the grounds of the historic Old Crow Inn, and 300 people showed up. Chateau du Vieux Corbeau, the local host winery, produced a limited bottling of red and white wines which featured my artwork for the Festival poster. I was on hand Thursday evening to help promote sales that will benefit the Festival, and I was surprised at how many buyers wanted me to sign labels. It was fun, but nobody offered me a bottle to take home. In any case, it’s as close as I’ve ever come to designing a wine label, one of my unmet goals as a graphic artist.
• Aborted Study
Anticipating my appearance at the Community Arts Center on Friday night, I had this idea that I would complete a preliminary study for Spellbound that I started last November but never finished. It served it’s purpose back then, and I proceeded with what turned out to be the final version after the first of the year. It seemed like a good idea to finish the study and make it available for a convenient sale, but once I got involved in it, I realized that the magic was long gone. I may finish it anyway some time, just for the practice, but learned the lesson again that monetary motivations don’t have the power to bring my muse to life.
• Poster Signing
The Maple Tree Gallery completed the framing of my original painting, and Lee helped me get it down to the Arts Center before I dashed home to get ready for the Gallery Hop. Pat L was there to assist, and I ended up signing about half the edition of 75, and about half of those sold that same night. Patti and Vince stopped by to inspect the original, which had a well-lighted spot near the entrance. I couldn’t read their reaction to my purchase price (or didn’t really try to, actually). Clearly they’re the best candidates for ownership, and their interior decorator told me later I shouldn’t consider reducing the price, but I still wonder if anyone will be willing to pay what I think it’s worth. We’ll see. Dana remains optimistic, but I probably should give some thought to where I’ll temporarily hang it in the studio. I was delighted when Joan stopped by, and she took some pictures for Mombo. It was my moment of glory, and, as expected, the evening passed by much too quickly.
Posted in Art, Blogging, Community, Creativity, Family, Fiction, Friends, Joan, Mombo, Studio, Wine | Comments Closed
Friday, June 1st, 2007
— Month of May workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-6; Run-1; Lift-0; Yoga-0
— Unimpressed by my exercise stats, I have to remind myself that it’s a big improvement over my uncharacteristically sedentary April, and that my workout log doesn’t include things like hauling truckloads of crumbled blacktop out to the asphalt plant. Well, I’m still blessed with excellent health, my weight is under 160, and I’ve got a 17.4 bmi. With everything going on around me, I have to be very, very thankful for that. So, now that it’s summer, it’s time to ratchet up the physical activity and get in shape. Muscle Club, anyone?
— If you aren’t reading Peat’s European journal, you’re really missing out. She calls it “The End of Fear is Where We Begin,” and it’s classic Peat. Her smile shines right through every word on the screen. And how about that KK? Can’t wait to see the BIG BLADE!
— On a recent solo trip to Louisville and back, I finally broke into the “Zero Hour” tapes that Joan loaned me a long time ago. Who knew at the time that Rod Serling had hosted radio dramas for talents like Jessica Walter, Richard Crenna, Keenan Wynn, Joseph Campenella, Brock Peters, and Earl Holliman? Apparently, over 55 hours of drama were produced, and, like so many things these days, it’s also available on CDs or as MP3 files. I still don’t mind listening to audio cassettes, but, come to think of it, if I don’t copy my tape of Heston reading the Psalms I’m likely to wear it out before long.
— I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited about an upcoming Brass Band Festival weekend, but I’ve never been the featured artist before. It helps to be enormously pleased with how my highly visible contributions turned out. I can go into the whole thing knowing that it’s my best effort on display. On the other hand, I seem to be feeling more and more awkward being in a position to take credit for things that come from the Source of all constructive influence, creativity, imagination, and beauty. I feel like I’m merely the object of good fortune, and, at the same time, I know well the moments of struggle, and the “means” it took to find my way over obstacles I wasn’t sure I could surmount. I well remember Danny D’s remark to me that “God doesn’t write songs or make movies.” Sorting all this out is why I continue to do it, I suppose, but it’s a bit of a roller-coaster at times. It felt like I could finally catch my breath this week, with Mombo home from the hospital, and supervision of the poster printing behind me. Some kind of balance has returned to daily life, deadlines are being met, and the outlook in the studio hasn’t been this bright for many, many moons. I’m not saying that Graybeard is dancing around his campfire, mind you. Things could always be better, but the worst is definitely in the past. In other words, I shouldn’t need to sell any more mediocre cartoons to a nephew any time soon. And I’m writing this with a calm heart, even though I didn’t sell a single collage from my KOSMOS exhibition. Well, enough of that. Onward and upward, as they say.
V & S
Posted in Art, Blogging, Brendan, Business, Community, Creativity, Exercise, Family, Friends, Joan, Mombo, Personalities, Scripture, Studio | Comments Closed
Saturday, May 26th, 2007
Memorial Day weekend is cranking up. Marty and I finally began our driveway project this morning, and Ned is sagging under the weight of ancient blacktop. As America prepares to kick off another summer of fun and God knows what, let’s keep in mind the true reason we commemorate this weekend— all those who fell in service to our nation, and, by their sacrifice, earned for the rest of us the freedom to pursue our happiness. This wire photo helps keep my head in the right place. I also find myself thinking about Dadbo and his war service.
How many fallen buddies did my father mourn and never tell us about? How many friends came out of his first flight-school class, and what feelings filled his young heart when a sports injury prevented him from joining them as they shipped off? How many ended up in Europe as bomber pilots and never came back from those perilous missions? How much did that experience play in my Dad’s drive to see action in the Pacific, and how many friends did he lose in that theater… friends he also chose never to talk about?
Well, I’d best move on to the other reason for today’s entry. The latest message from Joan says that Mombo is doing well. I’ve decided to take the easy road today and post her news in this log. Why shouldn’t I just provide a direct report? Her current role in providing constant companionship for Mombo (with Jeanne, Rachel, and Glenda) has taken her away from blogging—
“A lot has happened since my last note to you all. Mombo has made some great improvements. The breathing treatments that she gets every 8 hours seem to be helping her, and she is now up to 850 on her ‘hookah.’ She has been taking some really good walks ‘around the block.’ Her appetite has returned, so she is eating much more and actually said that her lunch tasted ‘really good’ today. Her spirits are high, and you can tell that she is putting her will into getting well so that she can go home. They haven’t given us a firm day yet, but they have mentioned a possibility of Sunday. It would be nice to get her home on the Lord’s Day. She is so grateful for the beautiful cards and the phone calls from so many of you. Rachel and Glenda have been real troopers in helping Jeanne and me provide Mom with round-the-clock company. She really perks up when she gets a visitor. Today she said her rosary and read several daily readings from the Mass. She also got to see most of DAYS OF OUR LIVES. The case manager here at Central Baptist was in today and is arranging for home health care to come in after she gets back to the Valley. We are very pleased with the care she has had here. Most of her nurses and nursing assistants have been wonderful. Respiratory and physical therapists have also been supportive and helpful. She was so busy today that she did not even get a nap in, so now she is tired out, but, all in all, she is moving down the road to recovery.”
Thanks, Joannie, for keeping us all informed. You are a good daughter and an exceptional sister, too. But, most of all, you are a great mother, like Jeanne, and we all know who taught you how.
Get well soon, Mombo, and come back to the Land!
Posted in Blogging, Dadbo, Family, Gratitude, History, Home, Jeanne, Marty, Mombo, Prayer, Television | Comments Closed
Saturday, May 12th, 2007
Back during the 70s when I worked in acrylics, I once made a painting called “Blur-Head.” It could be a symbol of my life in 2007. I try to compartmentalize, but everything is just shmooshed together, as each day tumbles into the next, filled with unmet requests and rapid-fire deadlines. I can’t complain. It’s a product of my own intent to be busy again.
Ian was in Danville for a spell, and we met him in the gallery at the Community Arts Center. The lad looks slim and trim, and I was glad to see him. He liked my show. He walked home with us and had a chance to say hello to Bruce before heading down to the farm. I may not get to see him again before he departs for a big island in the ocean. Be safe. Aloha.
I won’t say how long it’s been since I was on a bike that wasn’t meant to sit on a floor, but I finally joined friends for a Thursday night ride out past the Rick Dees estate. It was an incredible evening, although I gabbed so much I don’t think I fully appreciated being out there. That’s ok. It’s a start. I feel like I have to build my conditioning from scratch. How did that happen?
During the time I’ve been actively blogging—since January of 2005—it’s never been this much of a struggle to make a regular entry. Something about the little calendar in the other format helped prompt me, but it’s more than that. Blogging is effortless when you know what you think or feel. This spring I haven’t allowed the mind-time or heart-time to catch up with myself. Hopefully that will change as I adapt to this new rhythm of daily activity. Forgive me if my notes here become a bit “blurred.” If that’s the way my life is right now, perhaps I’ll have more to show for it than a journal. There’s a logic and purpose to what’s happening lately. My profile is being elevated on multiple fronts, all at the same time. I need to resist the tendency to seek validation by writing things in a log. On the other hand, life without introspection is an alien existence.
“Fate is a name for facts not yet passed under the fire of thought—for causes which are unpenetrated.” —Emerson
A new and satisfactory pattern will emerge.
Posted in Art, Blogging, Exercise, Family, Friends, Ian, Nonfiction, Studio, Words | Comments Closed
Saturday, May 5th, 2007
— Month of April workout totals: DON’T EVEN ASK . . .
— Well, it’s May—Derby Day at that—and I had my best night’s sleep in weeks. I even dreamed about my old employer in Evanston, with a very pleasant, lucid conversation. I’m glad to be comfortably back in the blogiverse, and it hasn’t had anything to do with News Bruiser’s recent excommunication. It’s had everything to do with a wild convergence of commitments in April that shoved aside all activity but the most essential. I’m pleased to say I was able to fulfill each of my pledges: to lead the annual meeting of our five-county Salvation Army, to participate in the spring conclave of the Kentucky Bicycle and Bikeway Commission, to attend the quadrennial national conference of the Salvation Army in Dallas, and to mount my first solo art exhibition since 2002. Whew… Can you believe I pulled it all off?
— The experience in Dallas was, without a doubt, the most powerful package of consciousness-raising stimuli that I’ve had the privilege to absorb in many, many moons. An amazing line-up: Jerry Jones, Laura Bush, Rick Warren, Jim Collins, and Israel Gaither. Plus the many workshop sessions that astonished me with their solid informational excellence, including an opportunity to hear Stan Richards, a legend in the advertising world who would’ve been a prize key-noter at any professional gathering. He’s the creative mind behind the Army’s recent “Doing the Most Good” branding effort. On top of it all, we had the wonderful gift of time spent with good friends from Danville (nine of us were there), plus an exhilarating two days at the Anatole Hilton, which is like being inside a museum, because it has a world-class collection of Asian art distributed throughout the spacious complex (Reagan held the Republican National Convention there in 1984). And I haven’t even mentioned our evening at Texas Stadium: a picnic supper on the turf, lots of entertainment, and a chance to nose around an NFL locker room. Far too cool for a guy who can probably name less than a dozen pro football players. Eat your heart out, Marty… Oh, I forgot. You hate the Cowboys.
— Also wedged into last month was a particularly refreshing “Council Day” at the Valley. Both Terie and Bruce were there, and I don’t think that’s ever happened before. Makes me a bit prouder to be the namesake of the House of John. See you all at the next Clan gathering. Same time, same channel…
— After months of preparation, my exhibition at Danville’s Community Arts Center was hung and opened without any serious mishap. True, I had to abandon several items on my wish list, including a desire to display my first “Joe Box,” but, as usual, things worked out the way they’re supposed to, and the room was arranged with enough creations to satisfy my fondest anticipations. It was a delight to welcome lots of Clan and dear friends (plus many local poobahs were in attendance). Thanks to Bruce for his home-stretch assistance, and, of course, to my ”partner in all things,” who supported my preparatory effort for much of the year, and laid out a delicious spread of goodies outside the gallery on Thursday evening. Wow. This is not the end, but only the beginning of many more successful shows. Just take a look in my eyes. I can see the vision.
V & S
Posted in Art, Blogging, Community, Dana, Exercise, Family, Friends, Marty, Personalities, Priorities, Public Service, Sport, Terie | Comments Closed
Tuesday, April 3rd, 2007
I wrote an entire entry that was wiped out by a power outage before I thought to save it. I really don’t have much time available for this in the first place, and I have even less to spend doing it twice.
Posted in Blogging | Comments Closed
